


Feathers & Fur

by ladymdc



Series: Finding Light. [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Romance, Secrets, Self-Doubt, Slow Build, Soul Bond, Soulmates, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2018-12-16 03:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 86,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11820135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymdc/pseuds/ladymdc
Summary: A tear in the soul lets the Fade in.Not wishing to harm His children, the Maker breathed life into the rend with the promise they could be whole once again, but the Fall from Grace removed that promise. A gift turned curse as the rend was freed from those who created Sin, allowed to also turn their back upon them. To harshen their punishment the broken soul, longing to be whole, continues to feel the call of its missing piece in dreams.That Cullen was hers, within reach, was the Maker's cruel joke.





	1. A Confession

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this work originally in 2015 under the same title. However, I deleted it about halfway through because I was insecure & easily discouraged. 
> 
> I’m not sure why, but I decided to take another crack at it, so here we are. The plot/worldbuilding remains the same as the original F&F, but most canon scenes are skipped over to focus more on the relationship/moments in between.

His tower rose up before her. The very structure an embodiment of the man within. Quiet and safe. Strong. A little broken perhaps, yet fiercely protective.

Unbidden, Dorian's voice, rich with laughter, echoed in her ears — _'I need to talk to you,' he says._ But if the last year had been proof of anything, it was that 'The Herald of Andraste' wasn’t that lucky. With a sigh, Evelyn turned aside to lean against the balustrade.

The sky was cloudless and crystal clear. Something so simple remained fresh and new and foreign. Perhaps it always would. Granted, being free to walk beneath it for only a year could hardly begin to negate the other twenty surrounded by stone. Lost in memory, she watched her mouth make puffs in the thin mountain air; the small clouds of heat dissipated quickly. Winter was at an end, but here in the heart of the mountains, during the dark of night, it thrived.

A spear of light enveloped her.

"Inquisitor." Those beautiful, Ferelden brown eyes with flecks of gold as uncountable as the stars overhead crinkled with worry. “Are you alright?”

"Of course. You wanted to talk to me?"

The Commander tipped his chin and stepped aside. “Please come in.”

"You've been scarce,” she said. “I had to leave without saying goodbye." Evelyn watched him, garnering more information than Cullen would ever willingly deign. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and braced himself on the desk. "You left?"

"Just to Redcliffe for some personal business of Dorian’s. I left you a note."

As if seeing it for the first time, Cullen scowled at his desk. He began to gather the parchment into a half-assed pile and briefly scanned the equally disastrous table behind him. Evelyn had never seen any of his workspaces, including the makeshift barrel/worm-eaten door thing, less than perfect.

"What did you wish to discuss?" she asked after an awkward pause.

Cullen considered her a moment. She could see some internal conflict play out. A myriad of emotions flickered in his golden eyes before one surged to the forefront.

"I've found where the Red Templars came from. Theinfal Redoubt. The Knights were fed red lyrium until they turned into monsters. Samson," he spat the name as if it were a vile curse, "took over once their corruption was complete."

“How do you know Samson?”

Hard anger brightened his eyes, turning them into molten gold. There was a wealth of information buried underneath his hatred and disgust. Evelyn gently poked and prodded, steering the conversation down a productive path. It was easily done, but she was having trouble ignoring what he wasn't telling her.

"I'll handle it personally. If my choices had been different, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

His frown deepened. His brow furrowed adorably. "What do you mean?"

"I was afraid to go to Therinfal Redoubt.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________

He thankfully managed to process _that_ through the incessant pounding in his skull. “You can't save everyone."

"I’m very aware of that." Despite the wry smile, her eyes remained only kind and concerned. “Do you wish to keep this between us or take it to Council?”

“I’d rather—“ _Fucknotnow._ Candlelight flared brighter than the midday sun as the withdrawal became a razor-edged knife digging into the very center of his mind. “Leave the details between us, but—“ He was unable to push through the blinding pain. Mercifully, it subsided, but how long the flare-up lasted was always a blighted mystery.

"Cullen."

His heart stumbled. Irrationally so. From the beginning, Evelyn refused to acknowledge any formalities between them. She had said his name a thousand times over, yet each time felt like the first. He ached to hear it, and Cullen could do nothing but return his eyes to her at her call. Albeit warily, aware of her uncanny ability to read him as if he were nothing but written words.

"Are you alright?" Apparently, Evelyn was done pretending otherwise.

“As Inquisitor, there’s something I must tell you…” he trailed uncertain if this was the best approach. Should he enlighten his leader or seek comfort and support in a friend?

“Whatever it is I’m willing to listen,” Evelyn prompted.

“Right. Thank you."

Evelyn smiled, a bit forced perhaps, but it helped all the same. As with everything between them, Cullen tried to navigate the quickly blurring line between personal and professional.

“Lyrium grants Templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer, some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the Templars here. But I... no longer take it," Cullen confessed.

“You stopped," she said, confusedly.

“When I joined the Inquisition. It's been months now.”

Fear flashed in her eyes. So foreign he would have missed it had the air not tightened as the mage instinctively pulled close what could be taken away. Evelyn took two determined steps forward.

"Cullen if this could kill you—" she abruptly cut off.

“It hasn't yet. After what happened in Kirkwall. I couldn't. I will not be bound to the Order, or that life, any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it. But I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I've asked Cassandra to watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty.” Cullen realized he was supporting himself on the desk again and quickly straightened. He gripped the sword pommel firmly to force the tremor still. It didn’t go unnoticed.

Her eyes softened. “Are you in pain?”

Cullen regretted not telling her from the beginning, but as ashamed as he was to admit, he was touched by her obvious concern.

“I can endure it.”

“Thank you for telling me,” she said. “I respect what you're doing.”

"Thank you, Inquisitor.” Then for whatever reason, he found himself reciting his mantra aloud. “The Inquisition's army must always take priority. Should anything happen, I will defer to Cassandra's judgment.” He knew it was a terrible idea, Cullen could see it happening as if to some other idiot he was helpless to stop.

The air relaxed, charging as magic surged to surface. “Always take priority? Right now I don’t give a shit about the Inquisition’s army. I care about— I— shit!" The mage took a few steps away and repeatedly flexed her marked hand.

Even though her sentence went unfinished, it was enough to fill Cullen with foolish hope. As he stepped around the desk, Evelyn gestured sharply — _I’m fine._

Bravely ignoring her anger, Cullen lightly grasped her arm. She was warm even through his doeskin gloves. A stark difference from when he had cradled her frozen, broken body against him and prayed and prayed _and prayed_ for her to have the strength to open her eyes one more time. He wondered what it would feel like to hold her now. Whole and healthy Evelyn felt like magic; her aura was saturated with it and there was a harmonious feel to it that was soothing.

His thumb moved back and forth across the silk of her jacket. Comfort. _I’m here._ Reassurance. _I’ll be alright._ The things Cullen tried to instill via touch, not trusting himself to speak.

"I should have known," she practically whispered.

“How so?” he asked, equally quiet.

"I've never felt the lyrium sing. It's muted. Almost like you're dormant? That probably doesn't make any sense.”

"It does.” Cullen could feel the lyrium deep in his bones, _just_ out of reach. Magic resonated against it. The brilliant blue draught fresh on Templars' lips, called to it. Guaranteeing he would never forget who he was.

"Are you alright?"

His headache dull and manageable, Cullen answered truthfully. "I am now.”

“I wish you'd talk to me, Cullen. We’re… friends, aren’t we?” That she sounded so unsure saddened him.

 _You’re more than that._ “Of course.”

“Good,” Evelyn’s smile breathed a little life into her tired eyes, "then it’ll be easier to tell you to step back."

Cullen flushed at the reprimand, but before he could put a respectable distance between them, she began to rearrange the ruff of fur on his coat. He hadn’t noticed it was off center.

"You can’t force everything back into line. I appreciate the effort, I truly do, but you're running yourself into the ground.” Her unmarked hand settled on his breastplate. A ghost of her touch glanced across his chest. His heart tripped over itself. "And we’ll handle Samson, together, okay?"

He expelled a quiet agreement through his tight throat, and something shone in her eyes he'd only seen flashes of. Her hand shifted up toward his neck and just the thought of feeling her skin sent his heart racing.

And then his stomach growled.

_Loudly._

The hand halted. A surprised half smile twisted her lips. "Well, I didn’t see you at dinner..." she mused. Cullen blushed deeply. "I'll have something sent over." Evelyn patted the plate and made to leave, but he couldn’t just let her go with so many things left unsaid between them.

Reflexively, Cullen grabbed her arm. “Wait!” But before Evelyn could even turn fully around, he threw his hands up in a warding gesture and finally put some much-needed distance between them since he wasn't even acknowledging a line existed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She removed the handful of steps he put between them and placed a hand on his vambrace to encourage his arms to drop. They did, but one habitually flew to the back of his neck.

“Will you come back?” Cullen asked awkwardly.

“Would you like me to?” It wasn't uncertainty Cullen heard in her voice. It was... well, whatever it was it made him want to hide nothing.

“I would like you to." Awkward again.

“Okay,” her smile grew into something beautiful and open, “then I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Cullen said because he had to say something before she noticed the stupid, love-struck grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

Once alone, Cullen quickly removed his armor before organizing his desk while he organized his thoughts. They had been racing to all sort of places and assumptions and conclusions they shouldn’t be.

Not yet.

When the door directly in front of him swung open the mouthwatering aroma of the promised meal assaulted him. He was absolutely ravenous. How had he not realized? Thank the Maker he wasn’t drooling, though the quirk of Evelyn’s lip made Cullen reach up to check. Just in case. He swiped the remaining parchment into a random drawer and managed to give a brief thanks before he dug in. And he tried, _really tried,_ to not inhale the food. Luckily, Evelyn seemed entirely unphased at his lack of manners, setting a few stray reports on the desk before meandering about the room. Pulling books from shelves, thumbing through their contents. Lighting candles that had guttered out. Faint pulses of magic punctuated by flickering candlelight.

From the depths of the parchment laden drawer, the glint of candlelight caught his eye. The small amount of time spent side by side under the first non-Templar issued quilt he ever owned in the drafty cabin he briefly called home flashed through his mind. Looking back, he wished he had spent more time talking to Evelyn and not the Herald. Been the friend she had been seeking the night before everything went to shit. Regret tightened his throat, burned at his lungs. Cullen pulled the decanter out and fished around for the tumblers. He drew Evelyn’s attention with a heartfelt thanks. She unfastened the top two buckles of her jacket as she approached, rubbing at the newly uncovered skin.

“Perhaps I should arrange to have plate automatically delivered if you’re not in the hall by a certain time.”

Cullen did not doubt, for one second, the sincerity behind her jest. She already did too much for him. Easing his workload when he struggled, not knowing why, until now, just that he needed a hand up or a day alone. Upgrading the rare bottle of liquor or wine he requested. Nothing too extravagant, but an obvious improvement. Attempting to spare him from the politics he despised. Hand delivering him a meal instead of fetching a runner.

“I assure you that’s not necessary," he said dismissively, deftly pouring them each a hefty serving. Maker knew he needed it.

Evelyn grasped the glasses by their rims. “That remains to be seen,” she said with a sarcastic lift of her brow.

A frustrated sound rumbled involuntarily from his chest, and the soft, sweet, musical chime of her laugh warmed the air between them. Her trunk swayed. The stiffness in her shoulders melted away as if drawn from her body by the ice trickling from her fingertips, spiraling around the glass in delicate whorls of frost, and gone was the Inquisitor. Her beautiful, haunting eyes slid shut. Her chest, obviously bound, signaling she had trained rigorously at some point that day, rose and fell exaggeratedly with a deep breath; sampling the whiskey's bouquet.

“A man after my own heart.”

The idiom caught him off guard, but Cullen was tired of floundering. He could be bold. He wanted to be bold. _Not in Kirkwall_ had been honest, but not honest enough.

“You found me out." Cullen snatched up his drink and moved to the sofa across the room. Giving the heat that had flared across his cheeks a moment to diminish.

Evelyn held the glass by her perfectly formed mouth. Rim just barely touching the full lower lip she chewed on. "More secrets?"

"Of a sort,” he admitted.

Her features softened. Gone was the teasing, flirtatious smile she flashed her companions and in it’s place something soft and hopeful, perhaps.

For the briefest of moments, Cullen believed she would wholeheartedly accept him. The confession balanced on the tip of his tongue. Teetering on edge. But he said, "I've seen the suffering magic can inflict,” as originally planned. Evelyn's smile faltered, but she quickly recovered. “And I've treated mages with distrust because of that in the past. Sometimes without cause." At that, the forced curl of her lips faded. Ashamed, Cullen couldn’t look at her anymore. "After Kirkwall, I told myself I wouldn't be that person anymore, but when I learned of the alliance, I didn’t consider your fears, only mine. That was unworthy."

Instead of walking straight out the door, as he deserved, Evelyn sat next to him. Time seemed to stretch on forever in the terribly long silence that followed. Then without warning her hand was on his cheek, coaxing his eyes to her.

"All's forgiven."

Cullen was having trouble thinking through the onslaught of feelings that flooded him at just the feel of her skin on his. "I didn’t even ask," he managed.

"You did in there somewhere," she shrugged. Cullen managed to not let the sound of disappointment escape his throat when her hand withdrew. “I don’t know who you think you were, but I know who you are Cullen. And you’ve been a pleasant reminder of how Templars should be. Ex or no,” she amended. The correction sounded tired and worn out, even coming from her. “A stumble here, or there doesn't that negate that.”

That felt good to hear. Better than Cullen wished to admit. “You’re too kind.”

She smiled warmly. “So are you.”

He felt so strongly for her then. Affection manifesting itself in a gentle flare across his cheeks, tugging at his lips as he looked away to prevent her from seeing the longing in his eyes. He took a deep pull and leaned back. Their arms brushed together, and his heart pounded when she didn’t move to generate space between them. Hope swelled in his chest at the feel of her arm warm against his. All those words now lost and jumbled. He struggled to find them and put them together again before his courage waned. A deep, steadying breath passed through him.

"An apology of my own is due," Evelyn said abruptly.

Cullen couldn’t help but bark out an inappropriate laugh at the absurdity of her doing anything to offend him. She was too considerate, and he, smitten. “For what?”

“I never thanked you for saving me.” Evelyn rolled the empty glass between her hands, for once avoiding his gaze.

Embarrassment bled heavy under his skin; body suddenly far too warm for the close proximity. "That's not necessary."

"Oh?" Her evergreen eyes lifted to meet his; they twinkled mischievously. "Lots of things aren't necessary, but we do them anyway.” Her hand trailed through the air dismissively. “Leaving a trail of cook fires. Insisting camp be struck in the middle of nowhere so a search party—"

"Maker's breath," Cullen sighed. He thought it impossible to get any redder; the back of his neck felt like it is was on fire. "I get your point."

"Do you?" She asked seriously. He managed to nod. Once. "May I ask why you believed what so few did?"

"Your team escaped through the mines and after everything-" he fumbled. The alternative had been too close a reality, setting the glass down he raked a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have let you go in the first place. That wasn't necessary. There were other options."

"Options?"

"I thought of a least a half dozen immediately after you threw up that barrier barring the Chantry doors," he grumbled. The decision to just let her go still haunted him. "Playing martyr is the last thing I want you to do. Ever."

Cullen was surprised to see her lip quirk up. "Ah. Then we can agree. The Inquisition shouldn't always take priority.”

He blinked at her a moment amazed by the little trap she had skillfully led him into. There was, after all, a reason Trevelyan was the Inquisitor. “Uh, no,” Cullen admitted with a strangled laugh. "No, it shouldn't."

She grinned. "We’ll both have to work on that.”

“Gladly.”

Evelyn stayed with him talking of this and that until around ten in the evening. Only then did she, reluctantly it seemed, acknowledge the need to retire. He insisted upon escorting her to the keep. The mage had had several glasses of whiskey he reasoned. She happily acquiesced. Cullen willingly admitted the ruse to himself. Wishing only to be in her presence a little longer. Even a moment alone was all too rare. He held back his words and the door to her quarters. Letting her go this time. Leaving all those _things_ left unsaid between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are always welcome & appreciated, and if you feel so inclined, you can talk to me on here or [Tumblr](https://ladymdc.tumblr.com).


	2. A Little Time Together

Of course, Bull knew she was drowning in the enormity of what she had become. It was something Varric had simply put. She was like one of those statues of Andraste holding bowls of fire: awe-inspiring, larger than life, irreproachable. So, going incognito as a recruit was immensely satisfying. She met countless people; soldiers, kitchen staff, and even everyday civilians who merely believed in their cause, who wouldn’t dare approach her otherwise. They told her their life stories. Why they joined the Inquisition. Their hopes, their dreams, whom they left behind and longed to return to once the world was righted.

Sometime after the tenth bell chimed in the distance, the quiet feel the air gets when he’s near enveloped her.

"Hey, Cullen,” Bull greeted. The Commander stepped into her line of sight, placing his hands casually on the hilt of his sword. 

“Bull,” he returned. In the brief pause that followed, Cullen's eyes traveled up her body, taking her all in. An amused quirk of his lip manifested — there and gone as quickly as she noticed it. “Could I borrow one of your men?”

Bull took a deep pull from his tankard and wiped the foam from his lip with the back of his arm. “Is it important?”

“Honestly, it can wait until tomorrow."

Bull considered the Commander. Eye searching, his face the unreadable mask she’s become accustomed to. Then, without warning, he slapped her on the back.

“Take Grim.”

Evelyn toppled forward, swearing loudly and colorfully. Evelyn imagined that was light, for Bull, and if it had actually been Grim, he wouldn’t be facedown in the dirt drenched in ale up to one shoulder. Bull laughed. The Chargers laughed. Random people laughed. _Cullen laughed._ Then, to add insult to injury, she lacked the magical finesse required to heal more than a scratch, so molding Fire into the gentle warmth needed to dry her shirtsleeve was out of the question. She gave her soaked arm an irritated shake before allowing Krem to help her up. She was dusting herself off when Cullen’s voice drifted back to her. Full of amusement and delight.

“Let’s go, _Grim."_

Evelyn caught up with him just out of sight from the bonfire. Despite the scene that just unfolded, she was more worried than embarrassed or annoyed. Cullen wasn't known to disturb her for no reason. Unwisely, she had ignored the pile of work on her desk, avoided the Spymaster, and sought out Bull as requested, so Maker knew what was afoot.

“Has something happened?”

“No. Not at all," Cullen said, trying to soothe her concern. There was a heavy beat of silence. "I just wanted to—” A little-frustrated sound hummed in the air. Under the moonless sky, his blush would have gone unnoticed had he not rubbed the back of his neck.

Her heart fluttered. “Spend some time together?”

Cullen came to a grinding halt, arm going slack even though his hand continued to hang on the crook of his neck. “If you'd like,” he replied cautiously. No renewed blush. No anxious tells.

Evelyn didn’t know what that meant, but “Cullen, I’m soaked.” She held out the arm still dripping in ale for emphasis.

“Of course. I'm sorry. Good evening Inq—”

“I didn't say no,” Evelyn's laughter tangled with her words. She grabbed hold of his arm before he could walk off. She was needless to say thrilled at the idea and the fact he instigated it a pleasant surprise.

“My quarters are close. You could borrow a shirt." The word went up a little at the end, making a question where Evelyn didn't think there was to be one.

“I can borrow a shirt?” Evelyn bit her lip, trying to keep her stupid grin under control. His arm finally dropped from his neck to the hilt of his sword. Grip tight, the gesture lacked the casualness so often seen. Cullen then tipped his chin and began walking down the path again.

“It's the least I could do," he said.

As usual, Evelyn was determined to keep their time together, no matter how short, light. She playfully shoved his shoulder. “Nooo,” she drawled. Heart skipping a beat when he immediately moved back over so they were walking side by side once again. Every so often their arms would brush against one another. Technically it was just plate, so she shouldn't read into it. “This is Bull’s fault. His and his freakishly unnatural Qunari strength.”

Cullen huffed a small laugh. “Still, I should have waited. You just got back.”

Evelyn blew out an over exaggerated, put-out sigh. “Leliana is sure to find some awful way to punish me for not turning in my report.”

“There's still time.”

“Um…” Evelyn seriously considered it a moment, but ultimately decided against it for obvious reasons. “It can't be worse than last time.”

Cullen smirked. “Last time?”

“Leliana had innocently suggested that I welcome the new Arcanist. See if she had any ideas or supply requests.” The Commander laughed heartily. Evelyn couldn't help but smile at his good humor. “It was awful.”

“I imagine it was. Was her list long?”

“You have no idea,” Evelyn grumbled.

Cullen barked out another laugh but quickly got a hold of himself. “I’m sorry, it isn't funny.”

“Apparently it is,” Evelyn said wryly. “But whatever the Spymaster cooks up, I’m sure tonight will be worth it.” Cullen cleared his throat and looked away. Evelyn still caught his small smile, try as he might hide it.

“So, how did it go? You were gone longer than we anticipated.”

“Cullen, I went to the Fallow Mire."

“Right,” he said.

“I’m pretty sure I still smell like waterlogged corpses and ass."

“Is that how you blended in so easily with my men?”

“Oh ho ho! Someone's got jokes!”

He grinned. “Don't worry, all I smell is ale.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” She playfully shoved him again, relishing in his easy laughter and smiles.

Instead of moving back to her side, Cullen lightly grasped her wrist, stepping close when she froze in place. “If you don't mind cutting through the stables, we can remedy that faster.”

Evelyn was completely blown off course by his sudden proximity. She couldn't think straight. “Why would I mind?”

“The Row is more befitting someone of your…” His voice was low, intimate, in a way that made her blush.

“It's almost like you know nothing about me,” she joked. Close enough to the Row to bathe them in torchlight, she noticed how his cheeks quickly darkened as his golden eyes flitted away. Her hands twitched toward him wanting to comfort; upset she ruined the moment and hating she had wounded him, but she still wasn't sure what he wanted or what they would be if she kept pushing the boundaries of their… whatever they were.

She willed him to look at her, and after a painfully quiet moment, she brazenly slipped her hand in his, giving it a small squeeze. Immediately his eyes snapped back to her. Wide with surprise and some intense emotion that made her breath catch in her throat.

"That was poorly phrased," she said. "What I meant to say was: I hate market night and would love to go through the stables.”

He smiled a little. Reserved, but true. He tentatively returned her hold on his hand. "Really?”

“Really. I always go the morning after. They hold on to all the good shit for me anyway. You should come.”

“I suppose I could pass my morning duties on to Rylen.” He lightly squeezed her hand then, smile going all lopsided and adorable. “For the good shit.” Suddenly, he tugged her close as he turned them, sheltering her from whoever just stumbled into his back.

“Oh shit. Sir, I—“

"Leave before I turn around and remember your face, soldier,” he growled.

Evelyn allowed herself the indulgence of believing his extended embrace meant something. She breathed him in. Metal, leather, and sweat from a long day of work. If she were bold enough, all it would take is a little shift on her part to turn her face into the crook of his neck, but she wasn’t. Cullen then stood straight and released her. It took her a moment to process why, but no longer could she hear the frantic footfalls of the two soldiers literally running away for their lives.

With a deep sigh, Cullen examined his coat. “I hate market night."

“Come, let's get indoors,” she said sympathetically.

On route to his office, Evelyn held her peace mainly because there were a million things she wanted to say. _Sorry. Would you like me to fetch a runner to take your coat to laundry? Thank you, but I was already covered in beer. It was worth this time together. Do you know what a Reason is? No, okay. Yes? Well, you're mine._

Once inside he slid the deadbolt over. “You're right,” he said, interrupting her rambling thoughts. “I know nothing—“

“You know me better than most,” Evelyn disagreed. “You’re only missing the details because you obviously didn't read either report about me.” She had and was glad he didn't. It was sort of depressing how easily Leliana and Josie had stripped her and her family of the things that made them who they were. The entire thing read cold and calculating; made her feel like an object and not a person, which wasn't anything new as of late.

“It felt wrong,” Cullen said. Back to her, he rummaged around in a chest. "You weren't the enemy. You weren't my charge. I wanted to get to know you as I would anyone else. In time, the right way." And because she didn't think he'd ever turn around and face her, she went to him. When Evelyn arrived at his side, he handed over a plain white button down.

“That means a lot to me, Cullen, truly.” His forced smile shifted into something honest. “We can start correcting that tonight if you'd like." She caught the sadness in his eyes before he looked away and busied himself with unraveling the intricate layers of his surcoat.

“I was a Templar long enough to know most mages had unhappy lives."

“If anything comes up I’m not ready to talk about, I'll tell you.”

Cullen carefully laid his mantle over a nearby chair. “I'd hate to pry.”

“We'll start simple, I know all about your family and once upon a time I had a happy one too.”

Cullen shifted his weight. “Alright,” he said, a little reluctantly, before directing his attention toward removing plate.

Evelyn ignored the heat on her cheeks, but she couldn't ignore how intimate it felt to watch the Commander turn into Cullen before her eyes. In the field changing and bathing happened under interested and uninterested eyes alike and phased her not at all, but this was different.

“I should change too.” She gestured at the little nook cordoned off by the loft ladder, which would partially veil her at least, and sent a wine bottle tumbling to the floor. “Oh, fuck me! I mean—“ A slightly hysterical giggle bubbled up her throat. “I can't believe I said that.”

Cullen continued on with his… undress with a bewildered smile on his handsome face, seeming to notice it was turning her into a fumbling mess. “You can use the loft if you'd like.”

His bedroom? “Um. Okay. And I'll clean that up.”

Once in the borrowed shirt that practically swallowed her whole, not that she cared about that one bit, Evelyn couldn’t help but take a deep breath of faint traces of something rich and woodsy lingering on the collar. And as much as she told herself she wouldn't, Evelyn briefly studied the room as she rolled up the sleeves to give herself access to her hands. The loft was sparsely furnished and as expected, nothing new. A washing basin (she was pleased to note the pipes appeared to work as there was a slow, continuous drip from the faucet) on a long, low chest of drawers, a wardrobe, a bedside table, fireplace, a huge, four-poster bed, and... a giant hole in the ceiling.

She slid down the ladder and Cullen, now in a simple white undershirt, looked up from the mess in surprise. He opened his mouth but promptly closed it.

“It's habit now,” she shrugged despite feeling her body go warm all over. “So what do you think?” Evelyn threw out her arms in emphasis.

His chin tipped down, smile bashful as his eyes flickered away. “Stunning, as always.” Her cheeks warmed some more. She looked a mess, Evelyn knew, and Cullen was many things but he was not a liar.

“I’d rather wear this every day than those awful formals." His easy laughter from earlier returned. Maker, she loved that sound. “I told you I'd clean that up.”

“That wouldn't make me much of a gentleman, would it?” His lopsided smile, the emotion and sincerity burning in his eyes caused a renewed blush to flare across her cheeks. Evelyn avoided his gaze and fidgeted at the scabbard for something to do with her hands.

“May I?”

Evelyn managed to nod, not trusting herself to open her mouth. Maker only knew what would tumble out. Cullen lifted the shirt up just enough to get at the buckles. Something about his focused attention and how the whole night had transpired so far made Evelyn wanted to confess everything. Run her fingers through his loose curls, taste the scar pulling at his upper lip, but once again, she knew she wasn’t that bold.

Finished he sat back on his heels, reaching over to lean the sword against his desk. Evelyn held out the soiled green uniform, reminiscent of the one stuffed into back when she was a suspect.

“Could this be of any use?”

Having already put the large pieces into the wastebasket, Cullen used it to push the small shards of green glass into a pile.

“There's a hole in your ceiling,” she said because… well because there was a hole in his ceiling.

Cullen sat back on his heels again and frowned. “Apparently the damage was caused by some sort of magic that even dwarves are unable to repair.”

“We can still find you suitable sleeping quarters.”

Cullen stood and dusted off his hands. “It's convenient to sleep where I work.”

“I can put a barrier over it.” She wrung her hands when he only blinked at her. “It'll only last a night or two because I'm still perfecting my technique, but it'll keep out the cold and any rain or snow.”

“That's a brilliant idea,” he said. “A magical fix never crossed my mind.”

Evelyn smiled at him. “I'll find someone to restore it when I'm away from the keep.”

The barrier had just stretched across the scar in his ceiling, unnoticeable except for the shimmery purple hue of the stars when a loud, insistent knock sounded at the door.

"Commander!" A man shouted, sounding mildly panicked. “Sorry to bother you sir, but we can’t find the Inquisitor.”

A door creaked open. “What is so important that you would need to disturb her at this hour?”

Evelyn couldn’t help but take some enjoyment out of how angry he sounded at the interruption. However, since they were looking for _the Inquisitor_ , she stayed put. The Commander didn’t need to be beaten to a bloody pulp in the rumor mill just because she had innocently borrowed a shirt and happened to be in his bedroom.

“Sir, there is a ... commotion involving Seeker Pentaghast and Master Tethras.”

A commotion... That was putting it lightly.


	3. A Little Inspiration for Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude of sorts.

**A Little Inspiration**

Evelyn swirled the remaining whiskey around in her glass before finishing it. It wasn't very good, but it reminded her of him all the same. Something had changed since Haven, but Evelyn couldn’t quite figure out what exactly, or more importantly, why.

Cullen had arranged the ship himself but was displeased with her sudden departure. The continuous exchange of letters while away was new and teetered between personal and business. The one Evelyn had found atop the monstrous pile of work waiting on her desk was short, sweet and to the point: _I'm glad you're back, sorry I couldn't be there in person to say so._ It left Evelyn wondering what else he had to say, what might have been said had she not been forced from his office over three weeks ago.

"Trevelyan. Where’d you go?"

“Hm?” The room came back into focus and Evelyn was met with Hawke's dark brown eyes. Porcelain skin. Hair dark like obsidian. Without the usual smear of crimson across the bridge of her nose the scar it covered was visible. Whatever was the paint was for?

"Like something you see?"

“Don't flatter yourself, dear. She was looking at me,” Dorian scoffed matter-of-factually.

Evelyn smirked. “Of all the gossip flying around the main hall, our love affair is by far my favorite.”

"My favorite was something about the allure of command.” Hawke waggled her eyebrows.

Evelyn was absolutely horrified. She felt her mouth open and close a time or two. Searching for something witty or dismissive to say but nothing came. Dorian tipped his chin in warning and something Evelyn couldn't quite place flashed in Hawke’s eyes.

“My mistake, I thought—“

“Oi!” Sera interrupted. “No sorries, everyone sittin’ here does know, yeah? Everyone out there too unless they're stupid.”

"Come on Feathers, you’ve gotta give me something.” Varric oozed exasperation. “I’ve got the inspired novel all laid out. I'm just waiting for things to heat up.” Shamelessly grinning from ear to ear, the dwarf rubbed his palms together. Hawke put her face in her hands and groaned.

 _"Closing Rifts."_ Varric exuberantly made an unveiling gesture with his hands. "An ex-Templar and mage overcome their differences, their stations in life. Find love in the midst of war.”

“Oh. My. God.” A little disbelieving laugh escaped Evelyn, and she realized Hawke’s look had been something resembling actual panic. “This is quite possibly the _worst_ thing that has ever happened to me.”

Ignoring her, Varric continued on with his overly dramatic pitch. “Angst. Romance. Demons, emotional and real, and—"

"Passion!" Bull interrupted with fervor. The group blinked at him. "What?” The Qunari shrugged. “Passion leaves your fingers sore from clawing the sheets.” He flexed his fingers on both hands and winked (blinked?) at Dorian, who choked on his wine.

"Please stop helping the dwarf," Evelyn whined.

From nowhere Varric produced a little pad of paper and a pen. He licked the pad of his thumb and flipped through a few scrawl-covered pages. "Passion it is! Would you read that Seeker?" He asked as the pen flew across the page.

Cassandra glanced at the Herald. "Um. Yes. Yes, I would." At least she had the decency to blush.

“You're such an asshole," Evelyn said, and Varric just grinned and grinned and grinned as if it was the best compliment he'd ever received. “So Aveline from _Swords and Shields_ is —”

“None other than Guard Captain Aveline,” confirmed Hawke. “And her husband—“

“Donnic is the main character in _Hard in Hightown?_ You didn't even change the character names,” Dorian said.

“Why would I?!” Varric objected.

“I don't think you understand how inspiration works,” Dorian replied.

Varric waved off the criticism. “Sure I do. They inspired me. It’s about them."

Evelyn shook her head. “It better be a bestseller and makes you filthy fucking rich, or I'll be humiliated for nothing.”

“I knew you'd see it my way!” He cheered at the same time Sera blew a raspberry in disagreement.

“Ain't nothing to be embarrassed about, Inky,” Sera paused to belch raucously. “You have a thing for Cully-wully. You want his thing and your thing to be doing things." She paused to make a vulgar gesture with her fingers. Varric choked on his ale which only made everyone, except Cassandra who tsked a sound of disapproval, laugh even harder. “It’s natural,” Sera shrugged. “Just need to grab him by his… nice hair, and show him how it is.”

“You have to see the little details to get the whole person, Sera. There’s a man behind that hair. A frustrated man. I can feel it in his swings,” Iron Bull added. “Part of him wants to be conquered.” A cacophony of innuendo then erupted, but a couple of her friends, mercifully, defended her privacy. Still, Evelyn put her head on the table and covered it with her arms.

“I was wrong! This is far worse,” she whined above the din.

“It really is,” Cassandra snapped.

Someone tapped her shoulder in the following silence and when Evelyn peeked over her arms, she saw a full glass of whiskey awaiting her. “Thanks,” she said to Dorian who had obviously fetched it as he had taken up residence in the empty seat next to her. Evelyn leaned back in her chair, dipped her finger into the amber liquid and swirled it around. Only then did she notice what had actually caused them to shut up.

“Hello, Cole.”

“Hello," he said from where Dorian had been sitting earlier.

Varric drummed his fingers on the table for a second before speaking. “I know this is a radical suggestion, but have you considered just talking to him?”

“No. Never occurred to her,” Cassandra seethed. “End of story.”

Evelyn took a long pull from her drink, nearly emptying it. “It’s fine. It really is,” she reiterated before the Seeker could snap at anyone else. “It’s just,” Evelyn trailed off, really not knowing how to finish the thought.

“Difficult,” Hawke said. The Champion understood. Void, the apostate might even be willing to fill in some of the remaining blanks. From what Evelyn could gather, her Reason was an ex-slave from Tevinter. He hardly could have had a good opinion of magic. Ever since the Circles fell, thousands of mages were out there just trying to figure out their place in a world that feared and even hated them. In the grand scheme of things, her ‘problem’ was insignificant. Cole then smiled a little and she couldn't help but smile back.

“It’s not easy being the protagonist,” Varric said, oblivious, but how could a dwarf, of all people, even begin to understand? “I've seen it and wrote it a thousand times. Expect some dramatic bumps in the road. That's all."

“Dramatic bumps?” Evelyn scoffed. “Seems like an understatement.”

“It is!” Varric laughed. “Which provides the perfect segue to introduce this.” He held up a collection of different sized pages hand-bound together that, once again, he seemed to pull from absolutely nowhere.

“What is this?” Cassandra rolled her eyes at Varric’s plea to handle it gently when she pulled it in front of herself by a metal ring. “Another book? _All this Shit is Weird,"_ she read aloud. “Oh Varric, that is a terrible title. What are you even thinking?”

As Cassandra read random excerpts aloud, the group offered praise, critique, and input much to the equal parts exasperation and joy of the dwarf at his companions’ literary ineptitude and creativeness. Only when Evelyn finally decided to say her farewells and call it a night did she notice Cole had slipped away without a word.

Outside Evelyn habitually looked at Cullen's tower. It lit up like a beacon, calling to her. Her feet itched to walk the familiar path to him. It had been too long. Whether a month or only a few days, it was always too long.

Without warning a hand was on her shoulder. “Wishing and wondering. What if he doesn't want me?” Cole singsonged sadly.

“Leave it for now," she said looking into the depths of his bottomless, pale blue eyes.

“When the world isn’t so wobbly?”

Evelyn nodded. Sobriety was necessary to talk to Cole. Then the spirit-boy held out his arms, sweeping off his wide-brimmed hat in the process. Wiry muscle folded her into him. The predictable rise and fall of his chest was soothing, and she found herself mimicking it naturally. Evelyn smiled and felt Cole’s answering sentiment against her shoulder. When the embrace ended, they let go simultaneously.

“Hugs always help,” he said before cramming his hat back on and vanishing into the night.

She gave the tower one last look before departing toward the keep.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

**Later**

The headache earned from a night of drinking and a full day of work subsided as the Inquisitor hid on a secluded corner of the battlements. For a change, the tent village turning actual village splayed out as far as the eye could see didn’t weigh on her. Instead, she saw the reason they fought, what was worth fighting for. Cook fires began to spark amid the maze of timber and canvas under the setting sun. Wood smoke and evening meals wafted up; comforting scents of travel.

“It’s better now,” Cole said from behind her.

“It is.” She patted the space next to her. Without pause, the spirit-boy climbed onto the weather-worn stone unphased at her precarious choice of seating. _Cullen would drag me from the wall._

“Rylen saw and shared.”

“Great.” Evelyn half-expecting the Commander to be storming her way with a lecture about unnecessary risks already prepared, leaned back and looked both directions. “I’ll have a talk with Rylen about causing our Commander unnecessary concern.”

“He’d worry anyway. Detached, dejected, downtrodden. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes.” They sat in silence for a few minutes. Evelyn watched the sun sink closer to the peaked white around them... brooding.

“I worry about him too,” Evelyn said eventually.

“He sounds new, echoes of laughter on an empty riverbed. Not for sailing, but safer.” Cole’s voice had turned dreamy and far away. A telltale sign of him reaching out into the world. “You help,” he added happily.

“I’m glad.”

“Words can heal two wounds at once.” When Evelyn chose not to respond, Cole tried again. “Numb. Tired. Tears trickle warm down my frozen cheeks. Footfalls fail. Stay alive, I'll find you. Echoes of his promise silenced by surrender." Cole blinked a few times as his eyes refocused.

_That’s what changed._

Cole nodded at her thoughts.

She was a Trevelyan — _Modest in temper, bold in deed._ And if luck favors the bold, it was high time she tested that theory. Removed their relationship from the Void. Defined it. Determined what she was to him. 


	4. Unsaid Things

The Commander stood behind his desk; a report in hand, brow creased in thought until he saw her. He brightened up immediately. “Good evening, Inquisitor.”

"Good evening, Commander."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked with a crooked smile.

“I need to talk to you." The Commander set the report down and rested his hands on the pommel of his sword. “Alone,” she amended, cocking her head toward the group of officers over her shoulder.

“Alone? Uh..." He glanced at the men, who had gone silent, before shaking his head as if to clear it, "I mean of course," Cullen said, stepping around his desk to usher her onto the battlements.

Without a plan, nervous energy coursed through her much like the magic that flowed through her veins. The one facet of who she was that Evelyn couldn't put aside like the Inquisitor. No matter how much Cullen emphasized the ex, he was a Templar. So what was it? Fear or adoration? Protecting the world from her or her from the world? There were months of mutual respect and friendship between them, perhaps that was all he wanted. She had managed this long without testing the boundaries of their relationship. It was better than—

"It’s a nice day," he said, voice cracking.

Evelyn halted. Startled back to the 'here and now.' "What?" She noticed they had walked halfway to the gardens in what she expected was uncomfortable silence for Cullen.

“It’s… There was something you wished to discuss?”

_Just say it…_

“Cullen, I care for you and—“ But she choked on the words when his eyes widened in surprise. Evelyn quickly averted her gaze, scrambling for a way to gloss over _that._

There was a heavy beat of silence.

“What’s wrong?” The unrestrained emotion in the simple words called her eyes back to him. Cullen seemed to be anxiously awaiting her to continue. As if the words she was holding back could save or destroy him. She forced herself to continue.

"You left the Order, but do you trust mages? Could you think of me as anything... more?"

“I could. I mean I do… think of you…” Cullen looked down, color flaring across his cheeks, and rubbed at his temple. He walked past her toward the outer wall of the battlements. “And what I might say in this sort of situation.”

She needed to know. Needed to see Cullen say it. Evelyn stepped in between him and the stone. “What’s stopping you?”

“You’re the Inquisitor. We’re at war. And you… I didn’t think it was possible.” Disbelief and relief melding together in a calm, insistent whisper.

Her fingers skimmed across the breast of Cullen’s coat. Deep red, shot with gold. Lightly dancing through the tawny fur. “And yet I’m still here,” Evelyn shrugged

The moment paused, stretching like a barrier. Slipping from her grasp as Evelyn tried to balance hope with the unthinking, reflexive fear that he would reject her.

And then it popped.

Her body swayed, relieved, toward the feel of his hand settling on her hip. His touch was solid. Real. It explored the curve of her waist before settling on the small of her back to draw her close. Leather, soft and supple, lightly caressed her jaw, angling her face up toward his.

“So you are… It seems too much to ask.” Cool mint in a gentle gust trailed across her parted lips when he breathed out a small laugh. His fleeting smile was replaced by a look that was enough to make her heart stop altogether. “But I want to—“ As he leaned down her eyes slid shut. Their noses brushed together, and Evelyn could feel the ghost of his lips on hers.

“Commander!” A man shouted and the moment slammed shut like the nearby door.

Her heart, already racing with anticipation, increased its pace in anger. In her left hand, the Anchor tingled.

It reacted too readily to strong surges of emotion and now was not the time for it to flare to life. Evelyn repeatedly flexed her hand as she tried to wrangle it under control. She breathed deeply, focusing on Cullen’s hands. They tightly gripped her hips. Fingers digging into her through the layers of fabric. Was his hold due to his ire? To prevent her from leaving? Or perhaps to stop her from punching the man in the face — which Evelyn seriously considered for a moment.

The Inquisitor glared at the interruption, hoping the look of pure venom would send him scurrying away. However, the idiot messenger was utterly oblivious to the scene he intruded upon and for whatever reason, reading the report in hand.

“You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report.”

She was glad to see Cullen was angry. It radiated from the sharp angles of his clenched jaw. His golden eyes, burning into landscape behind her, bright with it. After a heartbeat, he turned away.

“What?!” The word came out as a barely contained shout. Heavy with malice. Echoing off the surrounding stone twice before silencing. Some soldiers on patrol nearby about faced and backtracked from whence they came.

The runner finally looked up from the clipboard. “Sister Leliana’s report," he repeated, clearly confused. "You wanted it delivered ‘without delay.’”

For one of Leliana’s people, the man was obscenely obtuse. He blinked hard. Twice. Realization slowly spread across his face and the way he looked at 'her worship' left Evelyn feeling as if she was caught doing something inappropriate. She quickly broke eye contact, hand fluttering up to the sudden heat on her cheeks. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him take a hesitant step backward.

"Or… To your office… Right.” The man amended awkwardly.

Managing to find her voice, Evelyn could hear her own chagrin and disappointment. “If you need to—“

Suddenly hands pulled her face up. Her surprised gasp muffled between them as Cullen’s lips crashed down on hers. They were warm and soft and minty and… _what in the Void am I doing?_ Her mind taking a split-second to long to process what her senses were trying to tell her.

Instantly the wooden, reflexive kiss she had been returning softened. Unable to find purchase on the plate, her hands fisted into the red and gold coat. An incredible warmth spread through her. Erasing all those months of anxiety and longing. The kiss was cathartic and wonderful and—

He quickly broke away. "I'm sorry." Apprehension flashed in his golden eyes. “That was… um… really nice.”

 _Nice?_ Evelyn felt herself frown. Of all the words racing through her mind, ‘nice’ was not among them.

“You don’t regret it do you?”

"No!" Cullen barked out with a laugh. “Not at all.” A disbelieving smile tugged at his scar as she reached up to touch him. The rasp of his stubble. Feeling his jaw move as his mouth slid against hers. Her fingers threaded in the loose curls of his golden hair, _finally_ finding her hand where she had always wanted to place it. There was no rush. Long and languid, the kiss seemed to stretch on into forever. When it ended, the sun was almost down, just seconds from sinking behind the mountains entirely. Still, they held onto one another. Foreheads resting together. Seemingly unable to let go.

“Things will be different now,” Cullen said.

"For the better.”

“For the better,” he repeated, eyeing the third consecutive patrol in less than a minute.

“Would you like to continue this somewhere more private?”

“Have dinner with me.”

“Gladly,” she laughed as a fourth patrol began to stroll by. Cullen flashed her a wicked grin before ordering the men to ensure dinner for the Inquisitor and himself was delivered to his quarters asap.

“You have no idea how satisfying that was,” he said as the unfortunate duo quickly scrambled away. No doubt glad to have their hides intact.

“I do hope you’re referring to our kiss."

Cullen chuckled a little. “Satisfying as they were.” He tipped her chin up and planted a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. “I’m far from sated.”

“Likewise,” she murmured, relishing in the way his breathing hitched and eyes fluttered shut before briefly pressing their mouths together again.

Cullen tucked a loose, wavy lock behind her ear. “Shall we?”

Once in his quarters Cullen slid the bolt home — a sharp metal-on-wood sound in the quiet room — and moved to the opposite door.

“If you don’t mind, I’d really like to do…” She wove her hand between them, not knowing exactly what to call it. “This. Not dressed like the Inquisitor.”

The second bolt scraped over with a slow motion of his hand. “Or the Commander.”

Evelyn undid the top couple buckles of her jacket. “I can leave if you'd like a moment of privacy, but my wardrobe is limited.”

“Please, stay.”

Feeling oddly relieved, Evelyn began to rid herself of the Inquisitor, plucking the pins from her hair and habitually scanning his office. On the surface, the room seemed to be solely occupied by the Commander’s military precision, but there were traces of Cullen underneath. The books of poetry and history lining his shelves had been bought with much difficulty, and he had scoured the fortress for furniture. Pieces original to Skyhold. Objects needing a leg-up to continue being of use and personally repairing them himself.

“I assume casuals are far down on the Ambassador’s list of priorities.”

“So far down I've given Sera a small purse to remedy that.” She stored the pins in her inner breast pocket before combing out the intricate plait with her fingers.

“Is that a wise idea?”

“Sera isn't that bad.” Her mouth dried up when Cullen pulled the sweat-stained undershirt over his head. Scars crisscrossed his back and Evelyn couldn’t help but watch the muscle ripple as he put on a clean one.

“I beg to differ,” he said, oblivious to her ogling. “If we clear that table,” he nodded toward where she stood, “we can dine there.”

“Sounds good.” She shrugged the jacket from her shoulders. Folding it carefully, Evelyn lined up seams and laid it gently over the newest piece of repaired furniture. With his help, they made quick work of organizing the maps. When finished, Cullen drew her near. Sparks skittering in the wake of his touch. It trailed down the curve of her waist, vanishing at the asymmetrical hem of the diaphanous, golden undershirt. It was modest, but-

“This is entirely you,” he said, gently tugging at the fabric. Cullen then cupped her cheek, and she shivered at the sensation of his skin on hers, realizing he's never touched her without gloves until that exact moment. The sword-calloused hand shifted back, gently threading in her hair at the base of her skull to angle her face toward his. Evelyn wrapped her arms around his neck and went willingly into his embrace, carding a hand in his curls when their lips met.

His touch was firm, gentle _— possessive —_ and Evelyn thought she’d rip apart at the seams when he slanted his mouth over hers to slip his tongue between her parted lips. She pressed against him, and a low sound rumbled from his chest. Cullen quickly pulled back and gazed at her. His heart pounding beneath her hand.

"That was … really nice,” Evelyn teased because she was not going to fuck this up by rushing things.

Cullen shook his head affectionately. “Damned if I do, damned if I don't.”

“Definitely damned if you don't.”

“That's better,” he smirked before leaning in yet again. The kiss soft and tender, not growing in intensity. When it ended, he stayed close, hands still framing her face. A knock sounded at the door. “Glad to know I'm not dreaming.”

“I know what you mean.”

After another moment, the servant knocked again a little more insistently. Evelyn pulled away, kissing the palm of his hand before answering the door. As expected, it was Vanessa who usually delivered meals to Council when meetings dragged on into ungodly hours of the night. The woman set the meal out, offering Evelyn a sly, private smile before bidding them an enjoyable evening.

Cullen helped her to be seated. It was way too soon to talk about them. Time would be necessary to adapt and process all the changes because not all of them would be for the better. Eventually, they'd be able to evaluate how things should progress, if at all.

“I never did get around to telling you anything about myself last time, so want to try again?”

“Of course.” He looked a little relieved at her suggestion. “From what I have gathered, House Trevelyan has deep ties to the Chantry as well as the Order.”

“And there's a lot of us. It's been said you can’t throw a nug into a tavern without hitting someone with a bit of Trevelyan in them.” Cullen choked on his wine, and Evelyn couldn’t help herself — she laughed.

“I believe you did that on purpose.”

Evelyn tried to look contrite. “I promise I didn’t, and as an apology, I’ll tell you a dirty little secret. Dorian is my distant cousin.”

“Seriously?”

“Josephine is certain House Pavus is the source of my dirty blood. What!? I'm a realist!” She said at his reproachful look. “Centuries old blood-feuds have started over nondisclosure of magic in one's bloodline and given the Trevelyan temper, I’m sure there are a few out there for far less offenses.”

“Trevelyan temper?

“Based on the interactions we've had with my distant relatives, I think our House motto could use a revision. Something like _We will not calm the fuck down.”_  Evelyn snorted. This time Cullen saw it coming and managed to quickly pull his glass away before laughing. “Perhaps I shouldn’t make any more jokes.”

“No, it’s great,” he chuckled. “Anything else?”

“Our coat of arms is widely envied, but other than that, nothing too exciting to make note of.“

He smiled a little. “What about your family?"

“According to Josephine, my father is one of the most influential individuals in the Marches, but before his efforts, old blood was the only thing keeping us relevant. As the story goes, my father hated life in the city, telling anyone who’d listen: ‘I’ve got a great ambition to die of exhaustion rather than die of boredom.’ And the second the opportunity presented itself, he snatched up a large share of farmland, much to my mother’s dismay.”

“He grew crops,” Evelyn continued, “embracing the workhorse symbol of our House, but he longed to return to the war horse of the old days. In the beginning, he reigned in his ambition to ensure my mother had a home worthy of their status to keep her satisfied outside the city walls. Eventually, he converted the farmland into an equestrian center and by then he had ample knowledge in training workhorses so he was able to quickly turn to his real intention. He easily recruited several experts who taught him everything he knows in exchange for a job."

“I assume exhaustion hasn’t overcome him yet?”

“It hasn’t. My mother, however, had the misfortune of encountering some bandits while traveling a few years after I was sent to the Circle.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“So was I, but my mother and I were never close despite being her only daughter.”

Cullen frowned then but said nothing further on the subject. Opting to speak of his own parents and the small village he grew up in. He even talked about some statue that used to reside in the village square and how the children would dare one another to touch it despite the adults' warnings to avoid it.

“I would bet good coin that you never disobeyed your parents," Evelyn said.

“You know me too well.”

“How adorable,” she said. “It sounds lovely. I can almost picture it.”

Cullen uncovered the dessert plate, seeming to just need something to do with his hands. “Why are these cakes so… tiny?” They looked like little edible works of art. Two rows of three cakes. Chocolate, vanilla, and lemon — one for each of them.

“They're mignardises," Evelyn said plucking one from the plate. “Petit fours,” she added at his blank stare.

“But why?"

“Because Josephine knows I love tiny cakes,” and because Cullen continued to just stare at her, she added, “and the wine tasted like ‘ _I told you so.'"_

He scrutinized the Tevinter wine label with a frown. “I thought it tasted vaguely familiar. Did everyone know...” he waved his hand between them as Evelyn did earlier, “this would happen but us?”

“I think that’s a safe assumption.”

“I imagine the whole fortress knows by now,” he grumbled.

“I doubt it helps,” she replied cautiously, unsure how displeased he really was at the thought. “But I was recently told the visiting lords and ladies have been gossiping about us for weeks.”

“I usually pretend I’m deaf in the Main Hall.”

She bit back her laugh because Cullen was completely serious. “That’s a good idea."

“Am I supposed to use a fork or just pick it up?" They did look ridiculously tiny in front of him, and the mental picture of him using a fork to eat it amused her greatly.

“Whichever you’d prefer.”

He carefully picked up the vanilla cake topped with a small cluster of raspberries and popped the whole thing in his mouth after examining it a moment. When Evelyn followed suit with the chocolate cake, he was quick to tease.

“I can practically hear Josephine's tsk of disapproval.”

Evelyn quickly covered her mouth with a napkin, because for her, it was a mouthful and even a smile was risky. She tried to scold him with her eyes and his smile only grew.

“So, the only daughter, but not the only child?”

Evelyn wiped her mouth off before answering. “I have two older brothers who both still work alongside my father. My twin, Ezmond, died shortly after the Circles fell.”

“Was he a mage too?”

“No, a Templar. Ez was one of the good ones. He—“ Feeling his eyes on the scar spanning the length of her left jawline, Evelyn faltered. She hated the curious stares. Hated how they dragged her back there and despite wanting to do otherwise, Evelyn kept her spine straight, head proud, hands one on top of the other as Josie instructed.

“He would have joined eventually being the youngest son, but when my magic came to fruition, he went into training immediately. After the Vigil, our status allowed him to be stationed with me. I only offer so much detail at the moment, because without—” She cleared the emotion from her throat to continue because it had to be said. Cullen, of all people, deserved the truth. “Without him and my uncle, who was also a Templar, I wouldn’t be here today. Ez died saving me and my uncle was at the Conclave,” she finished hurriedly.

“Shit, Ev—” He winced as the little nickname fell from his lips before beginning to ramble. “Is it okay to still call you that? You know since you called him...“

Evelyn was quick to reassure him. “I’ve been called many things, but never Ev.” She smiled. Perhaps it little and sad, but she was unbelievably grateful for his concern, and she hoped he knew that.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel like I ruined the evening.”

Evelyn placed a hand on his forearm. At her touch, he tangled their fingers together instead. “You did no such thing. Nothing can ruin this,” she squeezed at his hand, “and that tiny lemon cake.”

Cullen smiled a little, lifting his remaining petit four in a silent toast.

The lemon petit four was a nice touch. It was topped with a sliver of lemon and a mint spring. Lemon was her absolute favorite and Cullen was known to chew mint leaves. She smiled, touched by Josephine’s little gesture, and lifted hers in turn.

“To the good ones.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will start picking up after one more warm and fuzzy chapter.


	5. The Future

Cullen placed a hand on the report he was drafting to prevent it from floating away on the crisp evening breeze that blew in with Evelyn. With her so close, almost under his fingertips, everything was finally in its proper place.

There you are.”

“I believe we’ve done enough work for today, don’t you?”

“I believe you’re right,” he said, abandoning the report along with his gloves. “Still no casuals?” He moved toward her, eager to close the remaining distance between them. He curled a loose strand behind her ear the second she was in range, feeling the world just… _stop,_ as she leaned into his touch. “Are you sure Sera didn’t rob you?”

“She'll come through, you'll see.” Her knuckles rapped against his breastplate. “May I?”

Cullen felt his brow furrow, but without a word, her hands moved to the straps holding the mantle in place. Unfastening, unraveling, removing the material from his person. She pulled it from his shoulders before directing her attention to the plate. Cullen could have made quick work of the task, but he found the action exceedingly intimate. He remained patient and still, assisting only with the heavy cuirass.

When finished, Evelyn leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “There you are,” she murmured. Cullen kissed her deeply, hiding nothing of how he felt for the extraordinary woman in his arms. When they separated she nuzzled against the whiskers on his jaw.

“I missed you at dinner,” she said. It wasn't often the inner circle dined together, advisors included, and he had been absent — again.

“I was distracted.”

Evelyn pulled entirely away and moved across the room. "You're always distracted."

“It’s hard to pretend I’m not worried.”

“I made it through Kirkwall fine,” Evelyn said dismissively.

Cullen dropped down onto the sofa beside her, pulling her feet into his lap to remove her boots and socks. “There were quarantines in place."

"There shouldn’t be much. Besides if it all goes without a hitch, we’ll be the first people in history to ally with the Qunari.” She paused for a moment as she unbuckled her jacket. “But I must admit, it seems too easy.” No doubt she was thinking of her ‘divine bad luck’ as Varric so helpfully phrases it, but if anyone could pull it off, it was Evelyn Trevelyan.

“If it goes to shit you’ll find a way. You always do.”

“Maker above that feels nice,” she groaned as he began to rub her feet. The bottoms were lightly calloused from all the miles spent traipsing around Thedas. Cullen ran a finger along a scar curling around one of her little toes. “I almost cut it off the first time I used a bladed staff,” she offered.

“I was surprised you knew battle magic,” he prompted.

“My father didn’t want me to die from boredom. He insisted I stay challenged, even going so far as pressuring the First Enchanter to have my Harrowing the day I turned sixteen.”

Cullen involuntarily tensed. It was unusual to have the Harrowing before seventeen.

“I won’t lie and say it wasn’t terrifying. I was seconds from going over the time limit.” She huffed a little laugh, gaze somewhere in the past. A small smile curled at her lips. “But I passed. How the whole mess transpired doesn't matter.”

“Who was the designated slayer?”

The mage looked borderline offended. “Is that really what it's called?”

“Not officially.“ Cullen felt himself blush up to his ears at the look of disgust that flashed across her face.

“Ez volunteered. The first time he saw an abomination he promised he’d never let that happen to me.”

“They probably would have chosen him anyway. The assignment is a way to test commitment. If the apprentice is overwhelmed, the killing blow should happen long before an abomination can form. If he fails, he usually dies, and the problem is solved.”

She looked absolutely horrified. “Are you serious?”

“I speak from personal experience,” he admitted reluctantly, “as well as a former Knight-Captain.”

She frowned. “And if the apprentice succeeds?”

“They are closely watched if there is any doubt about their loyalty,” Cullen shrugged.

“If that’s the case,” the mage waved her hand dismissively, “they would have chosen someone else.”

Cullen felt an irrational surge of jealousy. "There was someone else.” His voice sounded flat, even to his ears.

Instantly, her feet were out of his grasp, and Evelyn’s hand was on his cheek. Her eyes seemed to be begging him to understand. "I was lonely and young, and I never dreamed I’d see what was out here waiting for me.” There was something in her voice, something that added weight to her words. He held back what that meaningful tone brought to surface, and distracted himself with the harsh reality he had witnessed first hand.

“Was he a Templar?”

Her hand fell away. The mage chewed on her lip and nodded. Had Evelyn been at Kirkwall she would have received the Brand. He touched her cheek, tugging her lip free to feel it beneath the pad of his thumb. Soft. Petal pink. His.

“I'm glad you were somewhere better,” Cullen said. Her eyes fluttered shut. Her fingers entwined with his, holding him to her. Her breath gently gusted across the inside of his wrist, followed by the brush of her lips, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

“I’m somewhere even better now.” The softly spoken words squeezed at his heart. Touched him deep in his soul. And because he’d follow her anywhere, Cullen went willingly when she leaned back and pulled him along. He wrapped himself around the mage and allowed himself to get lost in her touch. Her hand carded through his hair, lightly rubbed his back, even traced a scar on his forearm with her fingertips. He felt so at peace. Blessed beyond measure. Home. It made opening up easier, but before he could even open his mouth to tell her about his regrettable someone else, Evelyn spoke.

“The past doesn’t matter, only the future.”

He lifted his head to look into her impossibly deep green eyes. The exact shade of the tall waving pines surrounding his favorite childhood spot, and Cullen felt that he could see that future in those beautiful pools. Did she see it too? How would he ever find the words to describe it to her if not? Hesitantly. Fearing it would vanish the second he shut his eyes. He touched his lips to hers. Showing her how he felt. It went on for what felt like an eternity. Desire flaring up hot. Fierce. Dissolving into something indescribable. Unimaginable. And when his eyes opened, his future was still there.

Faith it would come to pass tugged at his lip. “I wonder what it’ll bring.”

“Whatever we make of it.”


	6. Realization

A horse nickered down the hall. Evelyn wondered who sold her out. _Dorian?_

“Ev?"

 _Probably Varric..._ "I'm in here.”

His hesitant footfalls assumed their usual confident gait. "I've been looking everywhere for you. How long have you been here?" He sounded more annoyed than anything.

Seeing him in her peripheral, Evelyn shrugged. She wasn’t sure.

Cullen sighed, definitely annoyed. "Have you eaten?"

"I ate with Bull in the tavern. After he tossed an assassin off the battlements," she said dryly.

"Leliana told me."

 _That answers that..._ "Bull said it was a formality. To remind him of his place." Anger hardened her voice.

"Evelyn." She answered his commanding tone and finally met his gaze. There was nothing but understanding shining in his eyes. "I would not trade the Chargers for any alliance. Neither would Bull if he left the decision to you."

Evelyn forced a small appreciative smile before looking away. 

"Did Dennet get behind?" Cullen asked into the silence.

"No, I always take care of my own." After grabbing a brush and stuffing a leather tie in her pocket, Evelyn stood to groom the tail. "And I occasionally help out."

"Don't have enough to do?"

Evelyn huffed a laugh, she couldn't help it. "It's honest work, clears my mind. Helps me forget about everything for a bit."

"Bull will be alright."

"He will, but this whole mess could have been prevented had I sated my curiously weeks ago and had Charter break open that door,” she snapped. “Fucking enemy stronghold just hanging out! How did we not know!?”

“The oversight is being handled,” the Commander began as if simply giving report in Council. “If there is a double agent in Leliana’s ranks as she suspects, they—”

She threw the brush back into her kit. “No sham trial. No public execution. I’ll take the piece of shit’s head back to the Storm Coast, set it right on the fucking dock with a note expressing my deepest condolences, so they fucking know we know.”

 _“Bold in deed_ indeed.” Cullen was grinning broadly. Eyes crinkling in that way reserved for only her.

She felt herself smile despite everything. “I should have stomped my foot too.”

“You should have,” he laughed. The wonderful sound instantly calmed her. He cleared his throat. “Okay, now that we’ve gotten the ‘Trevelyan temper’ out of the way, since when is that,” he gestured to the Amaranthine charger she'd been grooming, “been your horse?”

Evelyn folded up the braid and took the tie from her pocket. “Since he arrived two days ago. He looks like he jumped right off the Trevelyan coat of arms and into our stables.” Once finished she stepped back to admire him again. Fifteen hands, charcoal gray, beautiful feathering, eerie red eyes. The plait was more intricate than necessary for a war horse, but the creature was beautiful and deserved the effort. 

“From your father? After all this time?” He sounded as surprised as she had been. Her first and only attempt at contact went unanswered, and shortly thereafter a flood of threats and requests for favors came in from every other branch of her House.

“There’s a letter if you care to read it.”

“Um… That feels like an invasion of privacy."

“Storytime then.” As she talked, Evelyn wandered around the stall, collecting her tools and rearranging the tack as she preferred. “When my titles were stripped, an official edict was issued. It was unusually cruel. My uncle swore it was my mother’s doing alone and that it had caused a severe rift between my parents. She was very devout, and you should've seen how she looked at me after…“ She shook her head to clear it. Part of her despised her mother for that look. Had caused Evelyn to hate herself for years. “But that is neither here nor there. The letter restored my titles and offered an apology.”

“An apology?”

“I might not have made it very clear before, but despite all my father did for me, he never corresponded with me directly.” At his frown, she felt the need to explain further. “For the sake of my elder brothers, he didn’t want to cause more problems, and after my mother passed, he felt it would’ve been a disservice to her memory to change things. I knew he cared, felt loss when I was taken. I never doubted that. An olive branch is nice, but this,” she smoothed her hand along the charger’s flank, “is wonderful. Expertly trained of course. He doesn’t even flinch when I cast." She snapped her fingers for emphasis. The spark sounded like a thunderclap in the enclosed space.

Cullen about jumped out of his armor. “Holy shit, Evelyn!”

For the first time ever, Evelyn felt she had crossed a very large, completely obvious line. She opened her mouth to apologize, but the Commander quickly stalked off. She panicked.

“Cullen, I—“

“Everything is fine,” he yelled down the hall. A trio of soldiers slowed their pace and began to sheath their weapons. Evelyn slipped back into the shadows. After a brief conversation they left, but the Commander remained in place until the door creaked shut.

Evelyn hurried to put her kit away, brushing the chargers nose fondly on her way out the stall. “I am so—“ but she cut off at the rise of his hand.

“I am not expertly trained, and neither are my men.” When Cullen got close enough she could see the small smile playing at the scar on his upper lip. That took the edge off, but she still felt sick.

“My dove,” he said, tilting her chin up. For some blasted reason, the unexpected endearment made her eyes water. “It’s fine. We’re fine. Everything’s fine,” he rambled, clearly alarmed. Cullen pulled her close. “I promise,” he added at her continued silence.

Refusing to even breathe until she had her stupid emotions under control, she nodded into the fur. Cullen was patient, repeatedly running a soothing hand along the length of her back. When ready she took a much needed deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” she said on the exhale.

“There’s no need,” he assured. Evelyn slowly felt herself unwind, and as if he knew she was ready, Cullen pulled back to look into the depths of her eyes. “Stay with me tonight.”

Considering she would be gone again come morning, she wouldn’t pass up his offer. She nodded. Just barely a dip of her chin, before tipping her head up to meet his lips in a slow, sensual kiss. Tempered passion, heavy with something _more._

Cullen must have sensed the anxiety and longing baiting his to surface as well. The kiss quickly turned hard and needy. He stepped forward, pinning her against the wall. The rough wood snagged at her clothing, but Evelyn didn't care about anything except the spear of his tongue invading her mouth, his fingers tangled into her curtain of hair (when did he take the pins out?), and Evelyn broke the kiss that took everything up with a breathless gasp. Moaning at the rasp of his stubble when he pressed open kisses along her jaw.

The moment paused, and his breath came in heavy, uneven pants against her ear. “I, um… I am not quite sure what just came over me.”

“I am so glad you just didn’t say the word ‘nice’ or ‘I’m sorry,’” she managed through the singing in her veins. To her surprise Cullen nipped at her ear in a playful reprimand, making it that much harder for her to let the moment pass. “Perhaps I should scare you more often.”

A low rumble began deep in his chest and grew into a joyful laugh. The heat of the moment evanescing.

“Maker above, it’s like you can’t help yourself!"

Evelyn centered the ruff of fur lining his coat. “You love it,” she said before even processing she was about to say _that_ word.

Cullen didn’t miss a beat. "I do.” His hand cupped her cheek as those two simple words left his lips. It was almost too much. The roughness in his voice. Eyes glowing like the embers that guided her back to him.

How much longer could she let this go on without telling him the truth?

Could she even survive his rejection at this point?

“I can stay with you tonight?"

“I did offer didn’t I,” he said, offering her his hand. She gladly took it, but once on the battlements, Evelyn tried to release him. They were _the Inquisitor_ and _the Commander_ where eyes could see. Thus to say Cullen tightening his grip confused her was an understatement. Noticing, he stopped, causing her to stop in turn.

“This isn’t a secret,” he said blandly.

“But I thought—“ Again, she tried to let him go, but again, his hold tightened, and then Cullen tugged her arm, reeling her back to him. A few soldiers nearby stopped to gawk.

“I think you misunderstood what I was originally trying to say.”

“‘I’d rather our private affairs remain that way, but if there were nothing between us for people to talk about I would regret it more,’" she quoted from memory.

“This is— I only meant—“ A frustrated sound hummed in the air before lips crashed down on hers, successfully getting his point across.

“Sometime soon, we should probably discuss what this is or where you’d like to see it go, if anywhere.”

Cullen frowned. “I’m not very good at this am I?”

“You’re doing perfectly fine."

“If I seem unsure, it’s because it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted anyone in my life. I wasn’t expecting to find that here. Or you,” he said quietly. Evelyn planted a chaste kiss, right on his scar, and tangled their fingers back together for the remainder of their walk.

“You don’t have much patience for nobility; I’m glad my recently restored titles didn’t scare you off.”

“I hadn’t considered. I have no title outside the Inquisition. I hope that doesn’t—“ Cullen paused to clear the welling panic in his voice. “I mean does it... bother you?” he continued evenly.

Evelyn slid the deadbolt over once inside. “Cullen, you are…“ _More. Everything. My raison d’etre._ “I could be the Queen of Antiva, and it wouldn’t bother me.”

With a hint of color on his cheeks, Cullen smiled. “Head on up and get comfortable. I'll lock up down here.”

Evelyn was glad to see a barrier stretched across the hole in his ceiling. Part of her worried he’d turn away anyone she chose to handle the task. She dug around in his wardrobe for a comfortable shirt to sleep in before removing her work clothes. Folding and setting them aside. Hearing him come up the ladder she quickly finished washing up. When the shirt slipped over her head, his scent enveloped her. She breathed deeply as her head popped through the top.

Cullen pulled himself into the room. "I'm glad you're staying."

"I don't want to be anywhere else.”

While he washed up, Evelyn knelt down by the hearth, rubbing the grime between her fingers she quickly determined it was soot, not dust. Fire in hand she leaned in a little to look up the flue, just in case, before tossing a few logs in and lighting it.

“Why do you do that?”

She held her hands up to him. “Do what?”

“You lean away from your Fire spells if it’s anything more than lighting a candle,” he explained while helping her up.

“It’s sort of embarrassing.”

Cullen pulled the layers of blankets back and climbed in. “I won’t laugh.”

Evelyn gave him a dubious look but answered anyway. “It’s an old habit. As an apprentice, I had a lot of trouble with Fire. I… burned off chunks of my hair, more often than I care to admit when it was my turn to light the fires.”

Cullen patted the empty spot next to him. “I didn’t laugh.”

“Learning to plait my hair was a good temporary solution.” She snuggled up next to him, entwining their bare legs for closeness and warmth.

“Well, you are very good at it.”

“That sounded like you were making fun of me.”

“Maybe a little.”

Conveniently, Evelyn was running her fingers through the chest hair poking above the v-neck of his shirt. She gave it a little tug.

After a surprised sound of protest, he laughed. “I’m joking!” Cullen engulfed her hand within his before she could do it again. ‘I love your hair,” he said, running a lock between his fingers. Evelyn turned her face and planted a chaste kiss on the column of his neck. A soft sound puffed between his lips and he held her tighter.

“Tell me about your magic.”

“Like the Anchor?”

“No. Just you,” he said.

Evelyn frowned. “It’s hard to explain. It might not make any sense.”

“I’d like to try, all the same, there’s something about it that feels different and—“

Evelyn stopped listening. _How did I overlook that?_ A million panic induced thoughts flooded her brain at once. There was no easy way to broach the topic. Void, blurting it out wasn’t even an option. She’d spent years trying to learn the full truth, and only one thing was for certain: the Chantry suppressed _it_ so heavily that even its name had been lost to time. Only fragments and secrecy and rare experiences and—

Cullen suddenly yanked her upright. “Ev. Are you okay?” he asked as the mark hissed and sputtered.

“I’m—“ Evelyn clenched her fist, desperately trying to pull the Anchor back inside. It protested again, filling the room with its sickly green glow. She shook her hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t— I have to.” Pointing the vibration toward the floorboards, she discharged the Anchor. Forcing out the build up the easiest way she knew how. There was a small gust of wind that almost guttered the fire out, but it quickly rekindled. Refilling the room with a warm glow and quiet crackling that would have been pleasant if not for the uncomfortable silence between them.

Evelyn tended to her hand. “Would you like me to leave?” She winced when Cullen touched her, but he ignored it. He rubbed small, firm circles into the flesh.

“Does this help?”

“It always goes numb afterward,” she said.

Cullen hummed a small sound and continued on. “May I ask what just happened?”

Evelyn watched the flames dance in the small draft coming down the chimney. “I know why my magic feels different to you.” No longer feeling like a dead weight, she flexed her hand; fingers cracking.

He cupped her cheek. “What are you so afraid of?” There was nothing but concern in those golden depths. So sincere and beautiful and Evelyn realized…

 _I couldn’t survive_ “Losing you...“

He tenderly sighed her name and pulled her into his lap. Cullen held her for minutes, hours, perhaps days. Time always seemed to stretch on indefinitely wrapped in his arms. Maybe if she closed her eyes, it would completely suspend. An imperfect solution to a perfect paradox. Made all the more apparent when he broke the illusion.

“Nothing’s changed.” The words were gentle, kind, with an undercurrent of stress he couldn’t completely disguise. “I want you here. You wouldn’t leave in the morning if I had my way, or the day after, and so on and so forth. We would stay right here until we worked through whatever it is that's upsetting you so or until the world crashed down around us.” Cullen tucked her in and propped himself up on an elbow. “And whatever it is, Evelyn, you have to know, I will never leave you.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,“ she said.

“I know it’s not malevolent. However, this,” his thumb ran along the mark in her palm, “is.”

And just like that, a damn broke. Her pain was quiet. Slowly trickling from her eyes. Evelyn hadn't realized how much she needed someone to acknowledge that simple truth. How utterly terrifying that alone made her very existence. Saying nothing for how much that added to the burden she already had to bear. But Evelyn hated her pain caused him pain.

She quickly dashed the tears away. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For understanding,” she said simply. Their noses brushed together before sharing a fragile kiss.

Afraid their ill-defined relationship would shatter at one wrong word, tonight, just being together would have to be enough. However, the mage couldn’t help but wonder…

What would the future bring?

Would what she was holding back bring them together or tear them apart?


	7. Not the Welcome He Had in Mind...

Upon entering his office, the aroma of his evening meal greeted him along with the slow, semi-amused drawl of a mustached mage reclining on the sofa; feet propped up on the low table before him.

"Soooo,” the man drawled with a predatory smirk that made Cullen uncomfortable, “the Commander of the Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste. That," he gestured toward Cullen, a torn chunk of dinner roll in hand, “certainly has people talking.” Dorian popped the piece of bread into his mouth. At least the meal wouldn't go to waste…

"You wouldn't believe how quickly gossip spreads in the barracks,” he said, bypassing his friend to hurriedly shuck armor. Cullen was a little stressed he would need to seek her out. He was anxious to see Evelyn. To be reminded that she was still his after how unhappily they had parted ways. Whatever she could possibly have to say about her magic was secondary, even if it had been itching at the back of his mind practically nonstop since her departure. Honestly, her reaction had been extraordinarily out of character. As a rank and file Templar, he had heard hushed stories and strange rumors. Stuff straight out of a fairy tale. Nonsense really, he thought at the time, but now he wondered.

By the time he had become interim Knight-Commander and would have been able to delve into the Order's history more freely, doubt was beginning to fester, but even if he had thought to question anything, it wouldn't have done him any good. All correspondence with hierarchy was always answered the same way. Implement the Right of Annulment in full at that very moment. Slaughter as many mages as possible, guilty of their own crimes or not.

Killing more innocents wasn't the answer, of that he had been sure. Cullen had stood by, willingly blind and inactive, for far too long in his service at the Gallows. In his lifetime really, and he finally had been in a place, internally and in rank, to do something about it. The Gallows fell as peacefully as possible while the Order looked the other way. Picking up the pieces in Kirkwall — the relief effort — that was what was important.

Now, however, Cullen found himself questioning everything about his past life. Perhaps…

"Ooo. Dinner, and a show,” Dorian trilled, interrupting Cullen’s most recent fixation on the issue at hand. He glanced behind him to give Dorian a _look._ Grinning shamelessly, Dorian raised a glass of wine, no doubt stolen from Cullen's personal stock and winked. Cullen rolled his eyes and kept on removing armor.

“I am quite proud of you," the mage continued pleasantly. "Giving everyone the one finger salute while removing our dear Evelyn's anxiety over all the secrecy." Dorian’s words always carried something underneath them. A little flash and cleverness to distract you from what he was really saying. Cullen wasn’t sure what, exactly, he was missing.

“She is more than worth it," he amended cautiously, turning to fully face the man. Dorian studied him a moment; eyes searching, sparkling knowingly. Not knowing himself made a little knot settle in the pit of Cullen’s stomach.

“Yes, she is quite a remarkable woman, isn’t she? In another life…” Dorian trailed off suggestively. Cullen flushed, and for a change, it wasn’t embarrassment that fueled it. “Ah, yes. Those rumors were probably much more bothersome.”

“Were?” he spat more caustically than intended.

Dorian, being used to his temperament, especially when agitated, remained unphased. “Haven't you heard?” A disgusted tsk blew between his lips. “I have been tossed aside."

He hadn't. "I am dearly sorry for your misfortune," Cullen said dryly.

"I thank you for the kindness." Seated as he was, Dorian still managed an elegant half bow. Even with a roll in hand. "And despite the rumors, I will not demand a duel for her hand. We both know I'd win."

"Of course. My strategy is appalling," Cullen said dismissively. He turned away again to pull off the soiled undershirt. Behind him, Dorian sighed appreciatively. Cullen privately rolled his eyes.

"If I recall correctly it was,” Dorian said.

Cullen shouldered a clean button down. Charcoal grey. Evelyn had said how much she enjoyed him in the color one day and he found himself reaching for it almost without thought on a regular basis. He also quickly toed off his work boots, dirty as they were. His nerves were apparently taking over entirely as Cullen stalled and fixated on things Evelyn truly cared little about. However, there was nothing wrong with putting in a little effort to welcome her back he reasoned.

"Yes. Well," Cullen began and instantly trailed off, recalling the man's incessant pushing and his steadfast refusal to accept the remote possibility. Perhaps if he had only followed his instincts from the beginning.

"Perish the thought," Dorian said. "Your little dove is at the Herald’s Rest with Bull. Celebrating."

______________________________________________________________________________________________

“To the fucking Iron Bull!” Evelyn shouted, raising her mug enthusiastically into the air between them.

“And his ass-kicking Inquisitor!” Bull boomed, mirroring her gesture.

The pair rammed their tankards together, downing whatever was in them. The Qunari coughed and sputtered. Evelyn swayed a little before leaning against him. Cullen didn’t know what was more alarming: that Bull found the drink harsh, and Evelyn didn’t, or that his large hand covered half her torso. It slowly shifted up and down. Caressing. Then, Bull leaned close, and something rumbled out of him. Low enough to only sound like a distant roll of thunder. The Inquisitor then giggled and threw her arm around him. Well, attempted to. Either way, it snapped Cullen out of his stupor.

“What are you drinking?” He asked as he approached. Hoping he didn't appear to be in a hurry despite actually being in a hurry. To touch her, to drink from her lips, to feel that she was whole and safe and back within his reach. Whether he managed that feat, Cullen didn't know, but by some miracle of Andraste, his voice managed to only sound curious.

Bull eyed him a moment. Tal-Vashoth or not, the man was Ben-Hassrath through and through, if he were drunk, Cullen wouldn't know unless Bull wanted him to.

“Maras-lok,” he said. The Commander wished he had his sword for something to rest his hands on while he ‘patiently’ waited. Eventually Bull laughed loudly. “It means drink!”

At that Evelyn went to take another swig, but when nothing came out, she looked at the bottom of the tankard as if it were illuding her. That did not bode well. Cullen sighed. Somehow the sound drew her notice where his voice had not.

“Why hellooo, Commander,” Evelyn slurred, giving him a jaunty salute.

“Inquisitor,” he greeted. Usually, he mimicked her playful formality by rote, but to say he was worried was a massive understatement.

Evelyn suddenly leaned out, boldly grabbed his belt and yanked. He stumbled forward, barking out a surprised laugh as he threw his arms out on either side of her to catch his balance on the bar top.

“Perhaps we should go somewhere private so I can greet you properly,” she whispered in his ear, undoing the top couple buttons of his shirt. His hands twitched toward hers, but Cullen didn’t think it wise to rebuke her in such a state. Luckily, standing straight stopped her progress.

“Now Boss,” Bull said conspiratorially. “He’s not just an object to quench your desires. Make sure to undress him with your eyes. Respectfully.” Cullen hated the heat searing across his cheeks. “Now look what you’ve done,” Bull chided.

Evelyn nodded contritely, withdrawing the hand that was just hanging onto the front of his shirt. “My apologies Commander.”

“So what are you two celebrating?”

“Killing a high dragon, like warriors of legend!” She gestured excitedly with the tankard. Cullen took a step back to avoid getting clobbered. 

_Surely_ he heard wrong.

“I’m sorry. What?” But it was as if he hadn’t even spoken. The pair began gushing about fire and raw power and comparing injuries. The Iron Bull, Cullen noticed, was absolutely shitfaced. They both were. What in the actual void were they drinking? Cullen stepped close and ran his hand down the back of Evelyn’s traveling armor. The conversation quickly cut off.

“Oh!” Evelyn tipped her head up and smiled so very sweetly. “Hi.”

While unsettling she forgot he was there, it provided him with a way to start over. “May I interrupt?”

Evelyn glanced at Bull.

“Later Boss. Cullen.” His horns dipped sloppily in farewell. 

“Later Bull.” Evelyn hopped off the bar stool and stumbled. Cullen managed to grab her arm, a little rougher than he would have liked, but it kept her from face planting into the floor. “Can we go to my rooms? I need a bath,” she slurred. After a couple of rocky steps, he hoisted her into his arms.

“Hey Bull, what—“

The Qunari was asleep. Just… folded over. His face on the bar, awkwardly angled due to his wide-spanning horns, one arm dangling down. Snoring.

“Krem!” Cullen shouted. “What is Maras-lok?”

From the other side of the bar, Krem laughed heartily. “It’s edible Gaatlok!”

“That’s reassuring,” Cullen said, looking down at the woman snoring in his arms.


	8. Poison

Cullen was awake. His eyes had simply opened. The water of Lake Calenhad lapping at the shore's edge was still echoing in his ears. Had it been any other body of water the dream would have been peaceful. However, just knowing what was inside that tower was a nightmare all its own.

Evelyn had curled away from him in the night. Only the Maker knew how long it’d take her to sleep it off, so Cullen took in the rest of her quarters to occupy his mind. The large apartment had old woods, luxurious carpets, towering bookshelves and more window than wall. Directly in front of the obscenely large, sleigh bed was a cavernous hearth where a magic-fueled fire was roaring, casting faint shadows about the room.

Cullen wandered to one of the doors located on either side of the fireplace to look out at the balcony. The first rays of sunlight shone on a lone chair and table at the farthest point of its curve. He turned from the window, and thinking of work, glanced at her desk. There was parchment everywhere. The shirt she borrowed months ago hung on the back of the armless chair. Seeing it there, like a little tribute, made him smile. Taking a seat, he organized the weeks worth of reports in date order. Oldest to newest and setting aside anything that had already been taken care of. Missives from various nobility he tossed unceremoniously into a pile. When he came across the report she was drafting from Crestwood he couldn't help but read.

He loathed her reports, but this was different. Evelyn had written a list of light amidst the dark: eager new allies, young love, sunflowers among a destroyed and abandoned farmstead, thunderstorms, the cresting sun over the still waters of the lake. The list ended with a blob of ink where Cullen imagined she held the pen waiting for more good to come to mind. Then there was the draft itself. Words written and removed with a hasty strike of ink as she searched for the void of emotion Cullen was glad to see she struggled to find. Her beautiful script a painful contrast to the atrocities described. She shouldered too much. Like their own Spirit of Compassion, Evelyn tried to fix every wrong and heal every wound that crossed her path. The haunted feeling he woke up with only grew with each word read. At the end Evelyn had scrawled a simple question:

_Why?_

He wished he had an answer. Seeing the parchment tremor he released it to clasp his hands together. The pages fell back to the unblemished surface with a soft swoosh. With everything neatly organized the remaining contents of Evelyn's desk caught his attention. A palm-sized chunk of everite, a small ironbark figurine of an owl, books new and some impossibly old. One was open revealing an inscription on the inside cover. Varric’s familiar penmanship within her copy of _Tales of the Champion._ The dwarf’s odd nickname for her was crossed out before the passage.

_Evelyn,_

_Reach down into your heart, and you’ll find many reasons to fight. Survival. Honor. Glory. But what about those that feel it’s their duty to protect the innocent? There you’ll find a warrior savage enough to match any dragon, and in the end, they’ll retain what the other’s won’t. Their humanity._

Surely she doesn't question that. If so, then Cullen didn’t realize how lost she really was.

"Oh. My. God." The lump that was Evelyn croaked from the bed. An arm poked out from under the blankets and weakly patted around. “Cullen. Call a healer and Lels. It was all a ruse. Bull’s a double agent, he’s poisoned me. I’m dying.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Evelyn pulled the quilt tight around her ears when Cullen laughed. “Shhhh… You could show some remorse in our final moments together.” Her throat felt scratchy as if she had tried to eat her weight in straw.

Much to her dismay that only made him laugh more. It thundered alongside the blood pounding through her head. But soon she heard the beautiful sound of a glass being filled, and ensuring she remained in her blanket cocoon, Evelyn forced herself upright. She swayed a little as her head spun and a vial was placed in her hand.

“What the Void is this?” she whined.

“Regeneration potion.”

 _Thank the Maker._ Evelyn downed the bitter concoction. Sputtering, and fearing it was about to come right back up, stuck her arm out again, desperately opening and closing her hand. Mercifully, Cullen placed a glass of, what Evelyn prayed was, water into her hands. She flash-chilled the glass and chugged it. Not giving a damn what it was as long as it was a liquid and not Maras-lok. Finished, she dropped the empty glass onto the bed and pulled the quilt tight around her.

“What are you doing?”

She made a little hole in the blanket cocoon for her nose and mouth so she could talk. And breathe. Breathing was good. “I don’t have curtains.”

“It’s barely daybreak,” he said kindly. The dip in the mattress told her Cullen had climbed into bed directly in front of her. She squeezed her eyes shut when he pulled at the blanket. Only peeking one eye open because he didn’t say anything once her face was uncovered.

He smirked. “Hi.”

Evelyn opened her other eye, feeling herself smile reflexively at just the sight of him. “Hi.”

His smile grew. “I’m glad to inform you that you’re not dying and that you both willingly ingested what Krem called ‘edible Gaatlok.’”

“Yes,” she agreed earnestly. “Poison.” Cullen laughed again much to her continued distress, and though it didn’t seem to ricochet around in her had so much this time, she still covered it.

“Ev, I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. Obviously struggling to keep his shit together he pulled her blanket hood up again. “Have some more water. It’ll help.” He reached over for the pitcher and refilled the discarded glass.

“Leliana will believe me,” she grumbled before downing the refill in the same fashion. This time it made her eyes feel like eyes and not little sand-filled bags.

“I’m carrying out her instructions to the letter.” He began to tick off the list on his fingers. “Potion, water until the worst has passed, then food. Which is to be limited to bread, cheese, and fruit until you no longer feel like you’re ‘dying.’” Air quotes included. The ass...

“All is lost. No one believes me.” She wrapped herself back up and curled into a pitiful ball.

“Ev, I was really worried for a while. We thought you had alcohol poisoning, but Stitches assured us it was a normal reaction to the Maras-lok. I watched over you until the worst of it passed, and Leliana sent up the hangover kit.” He stretched out next to her, trying to coax her from the blanket cocoon by petting her head through the blanket. “Come on out my dove, I missed you.”

She peeked her eyes out at the endearment.

“There you are,” he said.

“You stayed with me?”

“All night,” Cullen said, pushing the blanket back all the way to pet her hair. A hint of color crept across his cheeks. “I had to undress you because the Maras-lok made your temperature skyrocket.”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later I imagine.”

He looked immensely relieved at her reaction. “More water?”

“Yes, please.” Evelyn pushed herself up and allowed the blankets to fall aside because what did it really matter at this point. She felt human-ish, and that awkward first undress was out of the way. After she drained another glass, he ran his fingers across her collarbone, feeling the knot from a shattered bone healed too late.

"Does it still hurt?"

“Not anymore.” Evelyn ran her fingertips over the furrow of his brow, before carding her hand through his hair. ‘I'm sorry for last night. It wasn’t what I had in mind. I didn’t like leaving with so many things left unsaid, and I'd like to correct that before I leave again.”

His frown deepened. “So soon?”

She shouldn't have been surprised that her impending departure was what he would focus on. But she was glad he wasn't immediately jumping her for answers considering how nervous she was about fessing up. The silver lining about leaving it unaddressed was it allowed her, with help from some friends who thoroughly knew the details of the situation, some much needed time to put together a nice little packet to assist her through the conversation.

“Hawke’s Warden is worried something is wrong in the desert. It would be an extended separation,” she said.

“The peace talks are roughly forty-five days out.”

“I know, and there's so much shit to do,” Evelyn sighed and fell back into the pillows. Cullen stretched out next to her, stuffing a pillow into the crook of his arm to prop himself up.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of everything.”

She scratched at his whiskers. “I wish you could go with me.”

"Unfortunately, I’m needed here,” he said.

“Do I have anything on the schedule today?”

Cullen shook his head. “Leliana cleared it, and I left Rylen in charge. We’ll have Council tomorrow.”

“Then if that’s the case, I think I’ll wash up first.”

“While you do that, I need take care of something. I’ll be gone an hour, at most,” Cullen added at her exaggerated pout.

“Okay,” she said, knowing the time apart would allow her to have a nice long soak. Still dusty from the road and sore from being in the field, and when he leaned in to kiss her, she quickly turned her head aside, so his lips fell upon her cheek. Evelyn feared her breath was horrendous. She could still taste the harsh alcohol. It made her stomach churn.

“If I'm still alive when you return I'll correct that,” she apologized. “I'd hate to poison you in a roundabout manner.”

He shook his head affectionately. Smile honest and open. Seemingly unconcerned with the mystery that had been eating at her for what felt like forever. He lovingly palmed her cheeks, drawing her close to kiss her forehead. Lingering there as a deep breath passed through him. Evelyn placed her hands on his chest, taking comfort in the steady, calm beat of his heart.

“I'll hold you to that,” he said against her skin before wandering over to the chest by the servants’ entrance to tug on his pants and boots. Dressed, he flashed her a quick smile and exited through the dining area.

“Hurry back,” she called after him.

Evelyn had wanted to kiss him and now found herself wondering if she'd ever do so again.


	9. "It"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I screw up any lore, forgive me...

At the curious sound, Evelyn took one last look over her shoulder.

Her hood was pushed back. Revealing the angular style of her fire-red hair. It swayed gently as she laughed bodily. Before the door swung shut, blocking her entirely from view, they locked eyes. Time seemed to suddenly slow as if Evelyn had been ushered unknowingly into a bubble of rift distortion. The sensation was alarmingly real and unwelcome. She watched, dumbstruck, as the delighted curl of Leliana's lips slowly waned. Joy faded from her eyes. Evelyn felt her chest tighten; the pressure on her carefully crafted center was almost too much. Then, when Alistair followed Leliana's gaze, looking sideways at the mage, the breath was stolen from her lungs. His carefree demeanor vanished immediately at whatever look was on her face.

The moment stretched. Split-seconds dragged into minutes. Her heart picked up speed; blood roared through her ears. Her vision tunneled until nothing existed except the pair of steel grey eyes locked onto her own. Hyper-aware Leliana was trying to silently impart something imperative and necessary upon her, but what, exactly, was lost in translation.

Then as suddenly as time stopped, it began to flow again once the door settled into place. The latch made a soft clicking sound. Never having heard the Nightingale laugh before, not like that, Evelyn continued to stare at the wood. Baffled.

“How do you all know each other?” She heard herself wonder aloud, knowing the answer would be the key to Leliana's parting look. At the question, Cullen’s hand left the small of her back to wrap around his nape. He turned away, completely shutting down her attempts to get a read on him.

“From the Blight.” His confession was so quiet it was near inaudible, and before Evelyn had a half-second to process what this meant, Cullen began to walk up the spiraling staircase. Steps heavy like the oppressive silence stretching on and on  _and on_ between them.

A violent chill struck her, freezing her to the spot like winter's grasp. Deathly afraid of what this development would entail for her, for them. Evelyn had only left her rooms to find Cullen after an hour — at most — had turned into three. Bumping into the Warden on the battlements had provided her a perfect excuse to hunt down one of her Advisors. However, when she found two of the three crossing paths in the Main Hall, she quickly realized her error.

Cullen had drained of all color at the sight of Warden Alistair, and Leliana had hugged him. _Hugged him._

Evelyn always spoke of Cullen as Commander Rutherford, demanding respect befitting of his rank, but the Warden had known his name on sight.

 _So you and Commander... Cullen?_ He had rolled the words around in his mouth, tasting them. Trying to figure out what they meant. All she could muster was a small affirmative nod. Alistair smiled apologetically at her then, but the damage had already been done. Now all she could wonder was what that meant herself.

“Come, Evelyn, we have much to discuss,” Cullen called down to her, his ordinarily solid and sure voice now broken and strained.

In her rooms, Evelyn picked up the cream sweater Cullen had dropped onto the floor. Surely he meant to set it on the nearby chest, so that is where she placed it. She handed it gently like it was something fragile and precious as if it were a tangible manifestation of their relationship. Painfully aware that at any point going forward, it could snag and tatter into a million irreparable shreds.

Her heart seized when she finally found the courage to look at him. His beautiful figure, a solid mass of muscle and sharp angles, silhouetted by the late morning sun. He shifted his weight, hands moving restlessly from the back of his neck to straighten his undershirt and back again. His posture stiffened, going impossibly rigid when she took a couple steps his direction. Apparently, he didn't wish her to approach, so she stopped, mindful of his wishes no matter how much his reaction wounded her. Fear began to tighten her throat, but still, she had to try to break through this sudden wall between them. Knowing even if she succeeded, there was still another wall to breach, much like the double walls of Ostwick.

“Well, that took considerably longer than an hour — at most. I had to come searching,” Evelyn teased, trying to reach him the only way she knew how.

“I got stuck in the undercroft,” he said dismissively. Evelyn made a valiant attempt to set aside her hurt. Cullen always did have a hard time pulling himself away from work.

“I understand how that could happen," she said.

He roughly ran his hands through his hair, sighing heavily. “Where should we start?” It felt more like an invitation to pepper him for answers than a legitimate question, but Evelyn had promised herself she'd never ask again. She didn't want him to relive it in any capacity on her behalf.

“I didn't ask, and I'm not going to.” Her arm sliced through the air beside her with finality. That seemed to bring him back to her. Chip away at that wall a little. He finally met her gaze. The haunted intensity of his eyes lessening.

“Why?”

“You told me you didn't like discussing what happened. That's a good enough reason as any for me.”

As expected his eyes fixated on her jawline. In the quiet moments that followed, Cullen searched her face, yet his eyes kept gravitating toward that fucking scar, like an unspoken question of his own. She wished he'd just ask, so she could say the same, but he didn't — as always. Very quickly Evelyn grew uncomfortable and angled her chin to subtly remove it from view. He took a few steps in her direction, reaching for her. Evelyn was about to rush into his arms, eager to be reassured, but when he unexpectedly hesitated, arm moving to rub at the back of his neck, the pressure on her chest returned with a vengeance.

“I—" her voice cracked, and he took another step in her direction, but this time Evelyn mirrored his movement, maintaining the distance set between them. The hurt that flashed in his eyes was enough to make Evelyn regret every decision she ever made in life, but she didn't show it on her face. Until Evelyn knew how things would play out, she needed to focus on herself for the sake of self-preservation. Evelyn couldn't let this be her downfall. Too many were relying on the Inquisition — on her — and if she shattered into too many pieces she couldn't put herself together again, how would she ever find the strength to do what was needed?

She lifted her hand, trying to gesture reassuringly. Soothe the sting of her rejection away from where she stood. "Let me get my research notes.” Evelyn was sick to her stomach. She wished it was only the hangover but knew pretty damn well it wasn't. Doing her best to keep her roiling anxiety and stress in check, Evelyn sat at her desk and thumbed through the files in the bottom drawer, where everything important was stored and properly organized. She pulled out a thick folder and closed the drawer. The bulk of it went on the floor — out of sight out of mind — only plucking out the few pages written specifically for this talk and set them face down on her desk.

Cullen set a chair from the dining space a short distance from the desk, closing the gap between them a little more she mentally noted. He sat on it backward. Resting his arms on the chair back.

“It’s not malevolent.”

She wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure himself or her, but either way, she agreed amicably, because it wasn't. “It’s not. So I'm just going to say it, and we can go from there.”

He dipped his chin. Nothing about his posture or demeanor led Evelyn to believe he was the least bit concerned. Perhaps his earlier intensity was solely due to seeing a piece of his past walk into the Main Hall by her side. She could understand that.

“It's okay Evelyn,” he added soothingly.

Evelyn nodded. _Deep breath._ “We’re soulmates,” she said on the exhale.

He smiled all crooked and fond, and it calmed her considerably. “Like in the fairy tales?”

“I wish,” she said, feeling her lips briefly curl into a weak smile at the simplicity. Abruptly fading at the harsh, difficult reality. “But I’m talking about something the Chantry suppressed for hundreds of years. So severely even what it was called has been lost.”

His smile was gone too. “You're serious?”

“Luckily, I know both Hands of the Divine. They confirmed this is canon.“ She lifted her notes. “I'm sure you well versed in Chantry teachings, but…"

Cullen gestured for her to begin. Obviously disturbed.

"It is said the Maker created the Fade, and in His own image, the Fade Spirits who could alter their world at will. However, lacking a soul they were unable to create or imagine anything new. Thus the Maker, dissatisfied, turned away from His first children and left the Fade behind to create the world of Thedas and its inhabitants. Separating the two by putting the Veil between them. The children that populated this new realm had a soul — the spark of the divine within them — and, while their world was more solid than that of the Spirits, these creatures were able to imagine and dream new things because of it." Evelyn paused. This was to be a dialogue, not a lecture.

"So far so good," Cullen shrugged. Evelyn wondered what fueled the little smile toying at the corner of his mouth, but she quickly shoved it aside. Without doubt whatever he found amusing would be overshadowed within mere seconds.

"Pleased with His second children, the Maker wished to bestow a gift. The ability to reach across the Veil and alter their own world at will. In order to receive His gift, the soul had to be torn open. Not wishing to harm His children, the Maker breathed life into the rend with the promise they could be whole once again.” Again an expectant pause.

“The origins of magic isn't specified in the Chant,” Cullen said. “Only that it was responsible for the Maker turning away from His children.”

Her head bobbed in agreement. “And with the fall from Grace came the removal of that promise. A gift turned curse as the rend was freed from those who created Sin, allowed to also turn their back upon them. To harshen their punishment, the broken soul, longing to be whole, continues to feel the call of its missing piece in dreams.”

He looked confused, but not upset. “And this is canon?”

“Officially heresy, secret canon. Leliana gave me an ancient text, but it was largely left to rot. I've stored it someplace safe to try to preserve it.”

“And you believe this?” Which part, exactly, did he disbelieve? For all she knew, he thought the Maras-lok gave her brain damage.

“I believe in the Maker, but not the Chant. So, strip that part out.” She gestured for emphasis, papers rustling in hand. “Then yes. I can say with absolute certainty I believe it, one-hundred percent. Every night I walk the Fade I can feel it. It’s like an itch at the back of my mind. If I ignore it, it isn’t there, but if I acknowledge it, for even a second, I can’t forget it.”

“And you're saying this connection is why your magic feels different?”

She put her notes aside. “It feels different to you, and only you. Cassandra said it's procedure to give the Brand for any infraction, even a bullshit one if it is suspected a mage and their ‘Reason’ reside in the same Circle. A natural curiosity arises in the Templar, but it's uncommon for the mage to discover their identity.”

“But you have. We wouldn't be having this conversation otherwise.” It felt like an accusation.

“There was a night I could actually hear it." Her voice was imploring, begging him to understand. "It was a reaction." Her hands came up, touched her temples and pulled away sharply.

A low sound rumbled from Cullen's chest. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What did you see?” His voice was calm. Too calm. Like the calm before the storm.

Unprepared to handle his scathing anger on a personal level, the panic began to well. "I don't know what I walked into. It was confusing," she said delicately, fighting to keep her voice steady. "But the second I saw you, it felt like I _knew_ you. And—“

“Are you a Dreamer?” His voice rumbled, like the first roll of thunder. The warning before the squall hit.

“No. I tried to help, but I couldn't,” Evelyn said, and the waking of the Anchor betrayed her forced calm. Evelyn flexed her hand, trying to slowly absorb the influx of mana.

“So you saw,” Cullen cleared his throat, and his hands curled into fists. Voice calming, posture relaxing. “And yet you came back?”

“I was told to resist, but on rare occasions, I checked on you,” she admitted cautiously.

He carded his hands slowly through his hair, more or less fixing the mess he made of it in his earlier agitation. “Seems awfully indulgent," Cullen said with a sarcastic lilt to his tone.

“I… uh… Did you just make a joke?”

And just like that, the winds shifted. The indifferent line of his mouth curved into a tiny smile.

“This is a lot to take in.”

“You believe me?” Shock tainted her every word.

“I do." He smiled fondly then, and Evelyn felt her heart would burst with relief. "But tell me the rest. It wouldn't have been suppressed so heavily if there wasn't something the Chantry saw as a negative.”

Bluntness served her well in the beginning. “The connection can be made stronger through a bond of some sort, and when formed, the mage’s magic reaches ‘full potential.’”

His brow dipped down. “How?”

Evelyn shrugged, not knowing what that meant exactly. “The text said: ‘with the tear in the soul mended, the Gift shall return.’”

He shook his head and waved her answer aside. “No, how is it formed?”

 _Oh._ “During intimacy,” Evelyn said in a quiet voice. His eyes briefly traveled over her, and despite the quiet thrill that traveled up her spine, Evelyn blushed. Deep and red and clearly uncomfortable, she began to ramble. “From what I understand, it's impossible to do without intent or initiation from the rend, for lack of a better word. So I don't really know why it was suppressed so heavily, but I've spoken with someone who's completed the bond, and she said it's…. indescribable, which is completely unhelpful but —“ Evelyn cut off at the rise of his hand.

"Is this what you want?”

Evelyn shook her head. “I don't want this to change things even though it's bound to.”

“Is this,” Cullen waved his hand between them, “a compulsion?”

That hurt. More than Evelyn had been expecting. “Anything but. If you had never been a Templar, you wouldn't have even noticed me.”

The unintended barb wounded him; his face fell, and he looked away. “I would have noticed you."

The following silence stretched on. Fire crackling, quiet breathing, a creak of the chair under a shift of Cullen's weight, and because Evelyn was more than thorough in her research, the mage broke that silence with the following: “There is also a way to sever the connection.”

His eyes brightened with some intense emotion. Jaw clenched and posture rigid. He abruptly stood, chair screeching against the hardwood floor.

“That is not —“ Cullen jabbed a finger at her. Voice loud and startling, causing her to flinch. Noticing, Cullen continued after a beat of hesitation in a clipped and detached tone. “I need some time to think, and I want that book and your file.”

“Okay, okay,” she chirped, gesturing for him to calm.

“Please.” The word, spoken with a soft kindness, was added almost in afterthought at whatever look plastered on her face. Evelyn didn't know how she felt, exactly, other than a wound up wad of anxiety and stress so she couldn't decipher what he was trying to accomplish, other than flee her presence.

“It'll take me some time to get the book, but you'll have it by morning.” She slipped her notes back into the file and handed it over. She noticed he was very cautious not to touch her and it made her eyes water. Luckily, she didn't have to worry about him catching the moisture in her eyes because once Cullen had the file in hand, he turned on his heel and went to the chest. His hesitation almost like he expected her to impart something upon him, but she didn't have the energy, defeated as she felt.

“I understand," Evelyn said; voice sad, but reserved. At that, he grabbed his sweater and left. She sat there, listening to his receding footsteps. Praying for a signal, something — anything — but not even a beat of hesitation was detected. It left her painfully aware he didn't even touch her once he escorted her from the Main Hall. Their last kiss shared weeks ago was probably the last and part of her knew it at the time. The other part desperately latched onto his promise.

_I will never leave you._

She felt herself fracture then like ice under too much pressure. That deep, terrifying crack under your feet that was felt more than heard. Barely noticeable points of weakness spreading across her soul. She felt hot, and that made her antsy. Needing to cool down, Evelyn threw open the balcony door and took a seat at the farthest point. After a moment she managed to look up into a pair of feverish pale-blue eyes.

“Sometimes a friend and a little bit of quiet helps plenty.”

The spirit-boy tilted his head, eyes suddenly becoming cloudy, apparently disagreeing with her current course of thought. Evelyn couldn't listen right now. Her heart practically stopped at the mere idea of what Cullen could be feeling at that moment.

“He needs time,” she added hurriedly, desperately trying to tamp down her swelling turmoil. “That's all.”

Cole smiled then, only the faintest curl of his lip, seemingly satisfied that she was attempting to be rational, and sat in a second chair she hadn't noticed before.

Evelyn felt the pressure ease a little.

He just needed time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters will be their reactions apart from one another, since in my mind, the Inquisitor spends most of their time outside Skyhold to further their cause. However, that doesn't mean Evelyn will handle the situation in a well, thought out manner. I like to think handling other people's problems, isn't a problem, but addressing her own problems is, well ... a problem. Then, they'll kiss & make up with maybe, probably some smut.


	10. Lost

Once upon a time, Evelyn had considered herself lucky. She had found her _raison d’etre,_ her soulmate, her missing piece. That Cullen was hers, within reach, was the Maker’s cruel joke.

Through the archway, Evelyn sagged against the wall to indulge in a quiet moment of self-pity. She rubbed her temples, cursing the combined hangover and stress that had gifted her such a glorious migraine. With a deep sigh, Evelyn lifted her head to glance about, searching for the tell-tale glint of candlelight off the metallic accents on Dorian’s favorite coat. Not seeing him in the central area, she headed for his usual alcove. As predicted he was lounging in his pea-green armchair; book in one hand, wine in the other, and a semi-amused smirk plastered on his handsome face.

Until he saw her.

Dorian snapped the tome closed and stood. Simultaneously, he set the glass aside and slipped the book into his belt. “What's happened?” He asked with a sense of urgency that made Evelyn blush.

Cole had seemed satisfied enough in the silence between them that she assumed her face was arranged into something resembling normalcy, but without the spirit’s overwhelming presence the mask had apparently begun to fall aside. All she could say with certainty was she felt numb. Whatever was brewing just beneath the surface was being held at bay. For now.

“I told him.”

Dorian thought on this information a moment. His face slowly shifted from concern to understanding before finally settling on disappointment. “I was positive he’d be receptive.” Evelyn could hear the underlying apology. Sure, Dorian had pushed her to just come out with it, but so had Cassandra, Leliana, and even Solas, of all people. Only Evelyn had reservations about how Cullen would take it all, and this was the absolute last thing she wanted to be right about. Ever.

Not really wanting to discuss it, Evelyn tried to shrug it off. “It is what it is.”

“Well, if he didn’t run away screaming there is—“ Dorian abruptly cut off at the murderous glare Evelyn shot him. Hope was what got her into this mess in the first place. Why again hadn’t she just been content with Cullen’s friendship?

Dorian sighed her name and stepped close. Cloves, citrus and olive oil. Fine silk, leather, and bare bronze skin. Evelyn settled into his arms, glad to have such a wonderful friend. Even though she knew nothing specific about Dorian’s Reason, (she would never ask, for those who knew the truth of the call, it was either a point of unimaginable happiness or untold sorrow) Evelyn was glad someone understood her struggle on some level.

“What can I do?”

“You could start by offering me a glass of wine,” she answered dryly. Dorian pulled her off of him to hold her by the shoulders at arm's length. “I need you to go somewhere with me,” Evelyn sighed. Dorian was one of the few people that could elicit the truth from her with only a look.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Dorian gave her head a little pat on the head like one would a good dog before he turned around. She rolled her eyes fondly. “Behind every great man is a woman rolling her eyes,” he said, turning around to present a very full glass with flourish.

“My dear Dorian, you don’t want a woman behind you,” she said quietly, reaching out to teasingly run her fingertips down his bare arm before accepting the heavy crystal. His eyes danced with mirth and his lip twitched, but he kept his expression as dark and wanting as possible. He stepped close and loosely held Evelyn in his arms for a moment.

“You’re right, I don’t,” he murmured.

Then a huge, shit-eating grin bloomed across his face, signifying Mother Giselle saw. Ever since she put her nose where it didn’t belong, they never passed up an opportunity to get under her skin. Anytime she caught the mages meeting in private, the ‘good’ Mother would try to spy on them. She was so predictable it was sad.

“That was so perfect I could kiss you,” Dorian breathed out in an excited whisper before quickly retrieving his glass.

Evelyn raised hers for a toast. “In another life,” she said by rote.

His eyes turned sad then, but still, Dorian lifted his glass in return. “In another life."

Dorian meant it. Evelyn did too, but right now the little, inside joke was anything but funny. The increase in pressure was almost too much. Evelyn didn’t know how much more she could endure. Breathing was becoming a challenge. She offered Dorian a forced smile in reply, a thank you of sorts, before taking a sip.

The dark, full-bodied red was angular, striking a specific spot on her tongue like chain lightning. It did a fantastic job of ridding her mouth of the sudden bad taste. She savored it a moment knowing there wouldn’t be a second. The Inquisitor needed a clear head, and such a strong wine could easily knock her on her ass if she weren't careful. However, some ‘hair of the dog’ was apparently doing her some good outside a much-needed relaxant. Her stomach felt considerably better already. She’d have to ask Bull if Cullen and Leliana left out a step intentionally.

With a sigh, Evelyn threw back most of the glass in one fatal swoop. She hissed through her teeth on the following exhale. Dorian looked a little startled that she finished her wine off like a shot. He took a deep pull and set his glass aside. Curious, and perhaps even little worried.

"A few weeks ago, Solas told me about a library hidden on the lowest level.”

"And you didn't tell me?" His voice was calm with only an undercurrent of disappointment.

"Dorian,” Evelyn whispered, not wanting the circular room to carry her voice beyond him. “When I say its perfectly preserved, I mean it literally. If we go now, I shouldn't miss anything on my schedule — tomorrow.”

Dorian paled a little but quickly recovered. Thankfully undeterred by her warning, he flashed her a wicked grin and offered his arm. Evelyn accepted, naturally. It boosted her mood a little to see Mother Giselle's disapproving scowl.

They traveled through the occupied floors of Skyhold in an uneasy silence, at least on her end. Part of her wondered what Dorian was thinking about so carefully when his eyes focused on her. He'd boldly hold her gaze when Evelyn caught him staring, but she shrugged it off, more concerned with running through her options.

How much space and time should she give Cullen? What would be helpful or only be a distraction? Should she just let it go and let him handle it without any interference on her part? The latter seemed the most palatable. Whatever he decided, Cullen had to come to that logical conclusion on his own, but if working with Leliana taught her nothing else, it was necessary to plot all possible outcomes. She knew Cullen. Knew how he operated and thought. The mental exercise was proving to be more productive than she initially expected and soon found herself returning to center. The pressure on her chest becoming a little more bearable. Once they reached the abandoned maze of Skyhold’s lower levels, Evelyn let it go. Changing gears, she told Dorian everything about the library.

It was like walking into the past. First editions to works thought lost to time. Many more Evelyn had never heard of. While climate control was undeniably necessary, that alone would not have entirely stopped the decay of the ancient tomes. There was no mold nor dry rot. If not for the thick layer of dust, the books could have been shelved yesterday. When Evelyn had first strayed into the lost library, she too had become lost. She managed to take in most of the room before the unease she felt overpowered everything else, and she emerged almost a full day later when she couldn't have been there for more than an hour.

“We're almost there,” she said as they descended a narrow staircase. The hall they entered had evenly spaced torches, and though bright were unable to entirely chase away the pitch black that thrived there, causing strain to one’s eyes. Evelyn hesitated in front of the door she sought. It was damaged, but sturdy and opened easily. It swung silently open on rusted hinges. Entering the dark room, they lifted their hands to illuminate it.

"Venhedis. Evelyn, this place is..." He trailed off, speechless, for once.

"I know." She was already moving around the room lighting sconces. The sound of the door latching shut behind them thrummed in the air. So deep, it was felt more than heard, sending a shiver down her spine and snapping Dorian out of it with a violent shiver of his own. Once there was enough light Evelyn wove her hand dismissing the fire.

“I need to retrieve something I stored here, but we might as well take whatever else we like. I'd rather not come back anytime soon.” Whenever Cullen was finished, she’d probably just throw the book back into the room without entering.

Evelyn grabbed some books on magical theory and lyrium, and was surprised to find two titles that had to be relevant to the bond. Her motions disturbed the dust. It moved unnaturally slow, drifting lazily in the still air when it should have spun dizzily. Unsettled, she quickly swiped the old tome Cullen asked for off the desk.

“Dorian, are you done?"

His response was a terse, "yes."

The sconces extinguished the moment the door opened. Slipping out of the room Evelyn felt heavy and slow as if moving against a rushing current. Dorian and she made a pact to never go into the lost library alone. Soon the disquiet thrust upon them fell away, and the pair chatted easily about anything and everything, except Cullen of course, as they wound their way back to the occupied floors of Skyhold. Once in the servants' stair, they went directly to her quarters. Dorian halted at the threshold to her chambers.

“Fuck me. It's morning!”

“Shit!” Evelyn dumped the books onto her little, unused dining table and rushed around him into the main room.

“Late for Council are we?”

“Be ready to leave immediately afterward,” she shouted from her closet. “And tell the others, please. We're going to the desert.”

Apparating in the doorway with her morning run in hand, Dorian blew out an over exaggerated, put-out sigh. “I hate sand.”

Tugging on a boot, Evelyn fell against some dresses. Poofy ones that prevented her from falling completely down. “But you love me.”

“Maker knows why,” he said; the accompanied smirk skewed his dashing mustache. Dorian helped her up, and she stuffed the correspondence unceremoniously into her coat pocket. He began buckling the decorative pieces of her travel armor so that she could plait her hair. They had done this dance a time or two. The Inquisitor was shit at getting anywhere on time. “Send a runner when you're done, and everyone will be ready and waiting at the gate.”

“I'm not running away,” she clapped back more defensively than intended.

He gestured at her from head to toe, then over at her go bag. “Aren't you?”

“Okay. I am,” Evelyn confessed reluctantly. She trained in her traveling armor. She trained when she was stressed out. Showing up late, out of breath, and blaming it on an early morning training session that ran over was convenient. Then when Council was over, Evelyn could leave. After a pointed look from Dorian — _You can hide nothing from me —_ he began to hand over the pins for her hair.

"Thank you," she said. "I’ve thought this through. Without me around to worry about, he'll fixate on it, and once he gets over his pride, Leliana will be here to answer any questions.”

His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Are you leaving Solas behind too?”

“No, we’re all going. Plus, Solas could have undeniable proof of the Maker’s existence, and Cullen would never ask for it.”

“The ignorance pride wroughts."

Evelyn worried at her lip. “It's probably best they don't speak. There's only one thing Lels can't elaborate on and I'd rather he not corner Solas about it.”

“He told you?” Dorian asked, obviously surprised.

“He said—” She faltered, not wanting to reopen past wounds, but how could she keep such a secret from her truest of friends? “He said your father would know.”

Dorian paled. His brow instantly broke out in a sheen of sweat. Sharp eyes lost in some unimaginable horror. Her stomach rolled. The look on his face further solidified the fact she could never do it. Not even if Cullen asked. Evelyn gripped Dorian’s bicep, trying to anchor him in the present. He blinked a couple times at the contact. Then his eyes slowly cleared, hand curling around her arm in return.

“I—” his Adam's apple bobbed. “I'm glad he didn't succeed.”

 _No shit... Wait!_ Evelyn grabbed his other arm. “You know who he is?!”

Dorian huffed a little laugh, glancing bashfully at the ground and Evelyn watched with amazement as a hint of pink spread across his cheeks. His bright eyes were far away; lost in some other time, in some other place with someone obviously dear.

"I've known for a while,” he said with a tiny smile.

“You asshole!” Evelyn shoved at him. In anger and for fun — 50/50. “I’m over here suffering, and you couldn’t give me some good news! I should rip your mustache off!”

“You wouldn't do such a thing,” he said, clapping his hand over his perfectly sculpted mustache, but his eyes danced with mirth.

Evelyn was going to enjoy how the tables have turned thoroughly. They had both confessed how their Reason’s weren’t ideal. His a magicless, non-human male; hers a Templar in the Inquisition. Dorian had harassed her mercilessly — _forever_ — until she finally told him which Templar it was specifically. She crossed her arms and gave him her best, most severe ‘the Inquisitor is angry’ face.

Dorian offered her an apologetic smile. “It’s terrifying how good you are at that.”

Evelyn let the silence stretch, watching with mild bewilderment as Dorian began to straighten his sleeve and pick a stray piece of lint from his chest.

“It's a love/hate relationship,” he shrugged. Still not looking at her.

She felt herself smile at the slip. “But it’s a relationship?” Dorian instantly turned _red_ and gaped at her like a fish out of water — which immediately told her who it was. He only flustered so severely in regards to one individual.

“Well,” she began innocently, pausing to hook her staff in its harness. “I look forward to you formally introducing Bull as such when I meet you all at the gate.”

At his continued silence, Evelyn placed the strap of her go bag into his hand while he stared at her in mild horror. Feeling considerably better, she thanked Dorian with a little pat on the top of his head and stepped around him to face her Commander one last time before she could make her escape.


	11. Underestimated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to reconcile the fact that Skyhold is in the snow covered mountains with freaking grass and flowers *inside* the keep. So, Skyhold is below the snow line. Sure it's cold, but it can still rain & maintain some greenery for a short portion of the year.

Her spire remained dark in the predawn hour, confirming Evelyn had not been to her quarters since her arrival. Or she had, Cullen realized with a pang of horror, and just didn't bring any light into the room.

“No,” Cole said. This startled Cullen. The spirit had been cropping up consistently since they arrived, watching silently from the shadows, but not speaking. “She is lost,” he added.

Cullen sighed heavily at that. On the surface, it came off vague and unhelpful, but Cole was referring to her mental state, not physical. It didn't really help though. Every minute that elapsed without laying eyes upon her increased his agitation. Exponentially. Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose while he tried to reign himself in. Bloody headache was getting worse and if he weren't careful he'd fall into an episode. Then, he'd really be screwed.

He needed to hit something.

“Silence hurts.”

The duality of that was not lost on Cullen. A strangled sound left him then. Part laugh, part sob. He'd never asked about the scar, mainly because Cullen was painfully aware Silence had given it to her. It didn't look like Evelyn even knew she was doing it, but she touched at it more around Templars who just had their draughts. And then there he was, ex Knight-Captain Rutherford, absolutely _petrified_ that fact made it worse for her. Even being the husk of the Templar he once was, Cullen still managed to hurt her with silence.

And did it fucking _hurt._ Evelyn's little notes were all that got him by for a while until he fucked that up too. Then he just went through the motions until she returned so he could _fix_ this.

He rolled his shoulders. The heavy plate wasn't helping his sore body any. He was tense. Too tense. Plus, Cullen wished he could rub at the strange sensation in his chest. Hollow like something was missing but tight.

“The connection,” Cole said, tapping his fingers over his own heart. “Your soul. It wants the peace and love—” Cullen flinched at that word and while the spirit noticed he seemed more determined than ever to speak. “—that only a dove can bring. You have to _find her."_

“I'm trying, Cole!” He roared, gesturing helplessly around the giant fucking fortress they occupied. The hurt look that flashed across the boy’s face only made him feel worse, Cullen didn't know that was even possible at this point.

“I know you are,” Cole said in apology and it looked like the boy would cry.

“I'll fix this somehow,” Cullen said, hating himself for hurting a Spirit of Compassion. He felt like a monster.

“I know you will.”

The way the spirit said it breathed a little life into Cullen's weary soul and the sudden serenity that bloomed over Cole’s expression took the edge off his turmoil. It was bizarre how the spirit got through to Cullen so easily, especially now that he didn't fight it anymore. It hit him then. This talk wasn't about his pain, it was about hers. Sure, Cole was there talking to him, but they were talking about her. Cullen had never had an actual conversation with Cole. While it obviously pained the poor spirit to have failed at ‘finding’ her, the fact he seemed to believe Cullen could, was immensely reassuring.

“I can fix this." It wouldn't be easy, Cullen wasn't stupid, but the relief that washed over Cole was palpable.

Cullen shoved off the cold, gray stone. In one door and out another, only slowing his pace to collect a fragile, old book. The plan: return the book with a note begging her to speak with him. Simple.

A sudden gale caught the door to the keep as it swung open, slamming it into the wall. Cullen shoved it shut. Damn wind. It was only a matter of time before the storm arrived. The sky had been dark and ominous for days. Despite the racket, Solas remained undisturbed at the rickety desk in the center of the rotunda, sipping from a little white mug. Several candles that had guttered out flared back to life with a lazy wave of his hand.

Cullen hesitated. There were still questions. Things he wanted to know just to alleviate his curiosity and simultaneously squash any doubt Evelyn could harbor about his desires. While Cullen would rather visit Dorian with his friendly quips and smiles, that wasn't an option at the moment. The coldness in his friend’s eyes when they crossed paths the night before was expected, but no less unsettling. Mercifully, Bull had been kind in a pitying sort of way and accepted to take over his duties for the day without question (Cullen had been too afraid of Cassandra’s wrath to ask her). Bull was a much welcome buffer between him and Dorian. Even the Qunari seemed to fear the mage would murder Cullen, then resurrect him just to do it again. Not that Cullen didn't deserve it; he knew he did.

So, if Cullen wanted to fill in the remaining gaps, he would have to endure Solas's silent judgment. He took a moment to compose himself. Cullen despised when his hair became unruly. He spent a better part of his life allowing it to do whatever in the void it wished solely because he didn’t know how to tame the blasted curls. A little bit of length, a drop of pomade and a minute’s time was all it took. But in all honesty, he was stalling. Gathering courage to ask difficult questions of a practical stranger.

The apostate reclined in an ancient chair. Legs kicked up onto the desk, one ankle crossed over the other. The little cup had been traded for a thick book. Cullen reluctantly approached.

“Solas,” Cullen greeted when he kept right on reading despite standing directly across from him.

Solas slipped a ribbon between the pages and set it aside. He threaded his fingers together and rested his hands on his lap before speaking. "Commander,” he said. An uncomfortable silence then bloomed between them. Those ice blue eyes never left his.

Eventually, he gestured toward the book housed in the leather case Cullen had made. The spine had been unintentionally facing the man. "You've been to the library?" he asked curiously.

 _Of course, I’ve been to the library, ass hat._ "Not for this specific book. I borrowed it. I’m on my way to return it to them," Cullen replied stiffly. _Off to a great start._

"That's kind of you,” Solas said, kicking his legs off the desk to set them back on the floor, and without further ado, flipped the abandoned book open again.

"Right." Cullen shifted his weight uncomfortably. Solas knew what he was doing, and Cullen could help but feel a little spiteful for it. "I—"

"Am obviously curious about the bond," Solas interrupted without looking up.

Cullen blushed. He would give anything to speak to anyone else about this. Solas was sure to make him feel like an idiot.

The mage leaned back in the chair and steepled his hands. "What do you wish to know?"

"The Chantry—"

"Heavily suppresses any knowledge surrounding it," Solas, again, finished for him. This time there was a little smile toying at the corners of his mouth. Cullen couldn't help the look of annoyance he shot the man. His lip quirked up farther. "The Elvhen version differs greatly. However, at their core, they are essentially one in the same. Sit." He tilted his head toward the empty chair.

The gesture was unexpected, and Cullen was further taken aback when Solas offered him a cup of coffee. He didn't think Solas was rude or anything. An apostate and ex-Templar naturally didn’t have much common ground. Plus, like himself, Solas greatly valued his privacy, and they were both of the ‘lone wolf’ variety. In fact, Cullen could count the number of times they had spoken on the one hand. This being the second without the Inquisitor present. He didn't allow that to deter him from accepting the invitation. Cullen set the book between them and took a tentative sip. Strong, black and scalding hot. Perfect.

“What is it, exactly, that you wish to know?”

Straight to the point. “Is there a way to sever the connection?”

Solas's mouth turned down at one corner. “Did the Inquisitor tell you this?”

The blush seared hot and fierce across his face. Betraying his desire to keep secret what fueled his curiosity.

“It is safe with me," Solas said, dismissively waving his hand. Cullen couldn't help but notice he looked a little relieved. "But yes, there is a way.”

Curiosity instantly gave way to anger. “And you told her?”

"No, but I pointed her in the correct direction," Solas said reluctantly.

"Why!?" Angry again, but not quite sure at who. Evelyn for assuming he'd want such a thing or Solas for helping her?

Solas skewed his lips in a disapproving manner. "She can be very persuasive."

"So can I," Cullen glowered.

The mage’s face crumpled in offense, but his words were the calm, even tones of scholarly explanation. "Two souls from one — their connection is intrinsic. To you, I will not offer much. Your kind looks down upon blood magic when it only a tool that can be abused like any other." The furrow of his brow deepened and the indifferent line of his mouth curved into a tiny frown. Disgust crept into his voice. "But there exists magic, even done under the best of intentions, that is an act of violation, in itself against the very laws of nature. It is common among certain circles in Tevinter where empathy is thought a weakness." Solas looked as if he had tasted something vile. He gave his head a little shake and paused to wash the taste from his mouth.

Dorian's father had tried to ‘change him.’ Cullen's heart lodged in his throat. He swallowed hard in an effort to speak.

“I'm sorry, what?"

"The soul is damaged, literally hanging on by a thread, it cannot survive such an act," Solas said. "The effects are not as obvious, nor severe as Tranquility, but unlike the Brand it is irreversible.”

“But magic is power in Tevinter, why would they cut themselves off from the Fade?”

Solas gave him a pointed look. “They don't.”

He understood then, and all it did was upset him more. "She wouldn't," Cullen snapped.

"I do not know what lengths she would be prepared to go, for you or herself,” Solas said, not unkindly.

Cullen knew Evelyn would never willingly sacrifice who she was for anything, even him, but it was too late. It was already eating away at him. He really needed to hit something.

“Reason, why that connotation?"

"In the beginning, the rend belonged to the soul from which it came. It’s ‘reason’ for existing was to heal and make whole."

"And now?" Cullen prompted.

Those pale blue eyes locked onto his own, seeing far deeper than Evelyn ever had. It was unsettling the way he seemed to see through metal and flesh and bone, all the way down into his very soul, and Cullen felt Solas was seeing him for exactly what he was.

"It is twisted and reversed. The rend, unblemished and whole, has a purpose and a reason for existing on its own. However, the wounded soul has naught without them," Solas said. How accurate that was pierced Cullen's heart. Mages were ostracized without mercy. Feared by the masses. Tossed into Circles where maltreatment was commonplace. Guilty of his own crimes he was positive Solas could see, Cullen forced himself to maintain eye contact.

“What is the Gift exactly?"

His gaze loss its severity, softening as Solas quit searching the depths of his soul. "With the tear in her soul mended, her magic would reach its full potential. No longer would she struggle to wield Earth or heal a wound, but most importantly, she would no longer be in danger of possession.”

"You can't be serious,” Cullen said, disbelieving.

"I am," Solas replied, lifting the cup to his lips.

Cullen had bombarded Leliana and Hawke with questions. Carefully scoured the book. There had to be something he was still missing. “Can the bond be forced?”

Solas scoffed and set the cup aside. "With blood magic? No. The bond forms from the soul, not the mind,” he explained as if to a particularly dull child.

Cullen gave up and went straight to the heart of the problem. “I don't understand why it was wiped from record. Nothing I have come across justifies it.”

“Your views have been tainted by experience. Had you not found yourself immersed in a lost legend, I believe you'd find the prospect of the Gift terrifying.”

Cullen frowned. Did Evelyn think the same of him? “Do you know where she is?”

“She is lost.”

“That's what Cole said,” Cullen said in defeat, slowly standing to give his screaming joints some time to adjust to carrying his weight again. He swiped the book off the desk and trudged along to his destination.

“Cullen,” Solas kindly called after him. He had never used his given name before. It was always 'Commander' in a clipped and detached tone or 'Templar' with a bite of annoyance.“ Her rooms are locked. Might I suggest you track down the Madam Spymaster for assistance.”

Cullen turned back around to face the man. “And she is…”

“With the Seeker.” Apprehension must have been apparent on his face because after a beat Solas added. “You will discover most of us are only concerned, for you both.”

Cullen dipped his chin in thanks before doing as recommended. Cassandra was nothing but predictable, she'd be on the training grounds. He could kill three birds with one stone. Enlist Leliana’s help in tracking down Evelyn, convince the Seeker to oversee preparations for Halamshiral and _finally_ hit something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this how I played the game. I have a serious problem with needing to complete everything possible before advancing the story line, so Evelyn was off clearing the dessert, but things at Adamant are not 'in motion' yet in this story. About a month/month & a half has passed since she fled Skyhold. Halamshiral will take place shortly after her return and Adamant at later time.


	12. Not the Problem

She sat opposite the cavernous hole in the wall. Another scar made from magic. Waiting.

A flash of lightning pulled at her blood. Her magic longed to dance in the air, weave over her palms and between her fingers.

The sky rumbled in warning.

Opening her fist, Evelyn produced a little ball of static. It lazily explored her palm until the storm called again. She set it free when the next strike arced through the afternoon sky. Mindlessly, the mage produced another. Smaller. It hummed gently. Felt more than heard. Quiet, like him.

Trevelyan pulled her eyes from the churning grey clouds only to find the ornate double doors still seemed to tower ominously above her.

“Is this why you're always late?”

Evelyn practically jumped out of her skin. The uncontrolled discharge of static stung at her palm. “How long have you been standing there!?” Whether she had been there only seconds or minutes was more for the mage’s pride.

A wisp of red and a pair of grey-blue eyes were all that was visible under the darkness of her hood. “Long enough.” The playful drawl of her Orlesian accent vanishing, turning kind and sympathetic.

“I haven’t had to be the Inquisitor in awhile,” Evelyn said. There was never any use lying to the Spymaster anyway.

In one fluid motion, Leliana pushed back the hood and sat beside her. The spy smelled of dusk. That crisp, clean scent only found when the sun was sinking from the sky, subtly laced with jasmine. Only such a close proximity allowed Evelyn to notice. It reminded her of the breeze that came in through the arrow loops late at night in the Circle library. Back when life was offensively boring, and she could only satisfy her curiosity through the safety of books and controlled experiments. Now, she was gifted with adventure and freedom and companionship, but Evelyn had learned those things came with a hefty price.

“It’s hard to wear a mask when one isn’t sure who they’re disguising anymore,” Leliana said matter-of-factly.

Evelyn hummed a noncommittal sound. The mage had left Skyhold a rock. Sure, she had been a little kicked around and weather worn, but overall solid and sure. However, the desert sands had eaten away at that, eroding her confidence and faith. A Red Templar stronghold, the Venatori’s sinister warning of things to come at Adamant and another long-buried secret from the Chantry. There was plenty out there to wear her down, but the one thing that sent the fragile remains crashing to the ground was silence.

Her personal messages were literally unanswered footnotes on her reports and requisitions. Upon arrival, for example:

_Sorry, I left so abruptly, but if I'm to be back before the peace talks, we had to get a move on. The desert sucks. I miss you already._

A week later, still nothing, and yet she tried, almost daily, like a fool.

_Today was difficult. Time magic is always absolutely fucking terrifying. Hopefully just a few more weeks. Thinking of you._

How about another week?

_I hope this finds you well though I'm positive Rylen is the only one reading these, so - Hi Rylen, see you soon. As I said before, the desert sucks (sand gets everywhere) so mentally prepare for that._

Rylen had answered her then. A little footnote of his own. Bless him.

_I'm good thanks. Looking forward to getting things set up so you can escape ‘the sandy pits of hell’ as Hawke calls it. She also gave me pointers for keeping sand out of the ‘important bits,’ and Warden Alistair gave me some scarf things to keep my head covered. I'm not sure if they're being kind or making fun of me. See you within the week._

That was the last time she smiled.

Each day that passed without a word, even one pertaining to work chipped away at her a little more. Rylen had answered all correspondence, and by the time he had arrived to take command of Griffon Wing Keep, Evelyn had given up. Had turned in on herself to protect the broken pieces from further harm. She had voided the hushed conversations that would dry up at her appearance and had ignored Cole’s frantic hovering. Evelyn did her very best to avoid falling into a long thought dead pattern of self-loathing.

Daily, Evelyn had to remind herself she wasn’t the problem and neither were countless others. Whether it be magic or race or sexual fucking preference, the problem was evident. It was everyone else; infected with varying degrees of hatred and fear.

_I am not the problem._

Magic was beautiful. Reaching across the Veil to pull back part of a dream. A replication spell. A thunderstorm. An illusion of the night sky. A shield.

Evelyn brought her hand up. Her fingers deftly tapped out a precise pattern then flattened. A bright burst of light split the stone; the mathematical demarcation of a barrier's limits. Her hand fisted and the air convexed toward them, translucent and purple, for a half-second before releasing with a radiant glow. Shielding them from the gust front just in time. The rain, coming in sideways, hammered against the invisible barrier.

Leliana giggled. “Good timing.” Her reaction coaxed a smile from the mage. Air and Water magic coursed through her veins. Evelyn could practically predict the weather.

“Can we pretend this is why I’m late?”

“My dear,” the Orlesian sighed, suddenly sounding impossibly tired. “Josie told me you reviewed the players for hours last night until you simply fell asleep in her parlor. As a result, you are late for nothing.”

Evelyn felt her brow furrow. “Did I miss something in my morning run?”

Leliana shook her head. A concerned smile curled at the natural pout of her mouth. “You’ve been busy.”

Evelyn had paid a visit to the nearby hot springs before doing practically anything and everything for everyone in the keep. Then when that well ran dry, prepped for the Game as much as possible even though she already knew it all by heart thanks to her innate disposition to bury her problems deep, _deep_ down and focus on things she could actually do something about. Of course, Leliana would know this. Again, no point in lying.

“Staying busy helps.”

“It helps occupy the mind, but does nothing for the soul.”

Evelyn shook her head. She wasn’t ready. It was why she was sitting in front of the door instead of discovering the room was empty and the painful knot in her chest unnecessary.

“I know silence hurts. It’s cut you deeper than anyone could truly know.” Like Dorian, the Nightingale’s words always carried something underneath them. It was sneaky and subtle, but there if you knew where to look.

Evelyn couldn't muster the strength to respond to the things Leliana hinted at, so she withdrew a little more. Habitually, Evelyn touched at the sprawling scar behind her ear, the heel of her hand shielding part of the razor-thin one beneath her jawline.

_I am not the problem._

The storm front had passed quickly, leaving behind a gentle rain that fell picturesquely across the landscape. Evelyn reversed the process and took a deep breath of the atmosphere allowed back in. She loved the rain. Loved the way it made everything smell alive, but most of all how it seemed to resonate in her very soul. All Evelyn needed was an interesting book, and she could pretend to feel normal, if only for a moment.

To her relief Leliana let her earlier statement go, no doubt taking a different course based on Evelyn’s reactions.

“It really is beautiful,” she said and much to Evelyn's surprise, the redhead removed all doubt as to what she was actually speaking of. “What you can do. How dedicated you are to your craft. You’re right to want better for mages. Everyone deserves the same chances in life.”

“Thank you for that,” Evelyn said.

“Some of the best people I’ve known were mages, and some of the worst simply wielded a sword.” The warmness of her smile faded, sadness crept into her eyes. It took Evelyn back to the day she confessed everything to Cullen, except this time there was no door to conveniently close Leliana off.

“Unfortunately,” she continued delicately, putting words to that look, "our Commander experienced the opposite early in life, and he hasn’t seen the beauty of it until recently.”

Her heart seized at having her suspicions verified so bluntly. The painful realization that his withdrawal was her fault hit her like a ton of bricks. Had she not been a mage or had Cullen not found himself chained to magic in a way he never asked for perhaps things would have played out much differently. Tears burned at her eyes, but Evelyn quickly blinked them away.

“So, I think you will be pleasantly surprised when you give him a chance to break that silence. He’s been prowling the keep almost nonstop since you arrived. Put him out of his misery, Evelyn.” Her arm pulled her close for a sisterly hug. After a brief moment of resistance, Evelyn leaned into the embrace, resting her head on her Leliana’s shoulder. “And yourself.”

The vice on her heart loosened. “Okay,” Evelyn exhaled on a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She'd have to face him sooner or later, and Leliana instilled a little-bitty, tiny sliver of hope within her. Enough to face him and perhaps salvage something of what they shared.

"Do you know where he’s prowling now?”

“Your quarters.”

Evelyn lifted her head to shoot the woman a look. “He’d know I’d avoid the obvious.”

“Of course he knows,” Leliana chided in a friendly manner, giving her shoulders one last squeeze before withdrawing her arm. It was amazing how different Leliana was when she left the shadows behind, revealing the woman she probably once allowed herself to be. As fluidly as she sat, she stood.

“I sent him there for his own good. If there is one drawback to the steadfast loyalty you inspire, it is when your friends go to war without your approval.” She flashed Evelyn a smirk before pulling up her hood and turning to leave.

Evelyn frowned, and as if reading her thoughts as she sashayed down the hall, the Spymaster called back to her. “No one was ever upset with you dear, only for you.”


	13. Nothing's Changed **

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing's changed (literally) they don't talk about their problems & continue diving in headfirst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reworked this chapter about 500 times before I gave up. From here forward, explicit chapters will be marked as such with **
> 
> My slow build is building slower than I intended, we're about a third of the way through.

The spiraling staircase to her quarters was rickety and old and fucking terrifying. Evelyn only took it because it was closest. However, it didn’t cross her mind, until she was three-quarters of the way up, that it ended on the landing. With no door or entryway, Cullen would hear her steps long before she was ready to face him.

Or so she thought…

And prowling was extremely accurate.

Across the room, Cullen stalked from the chest he had set his stuff around last time, which was open with his armor was haphazardly thrown inside, to the opposite wall. The moment his foot hit a predetermined spot, he’d turn on his heel and sweep back like a pendulum.

The poor man was obviously feeling something pretty intense at the moment, but Evelyn couldn't determine how she felt exactly. There was hurt, of course, and fear if she were to be completely honest, but the mere sight of him stirred up feelings she wasn’t quite ready to accept again. That disconnect made her want to flee, but the fact he was there after all was more than enough to stop her. Since his coat was carelessly discarded on the landing, Evelyn stooped down to collect it. Intentionally stalling to gather her bearings. Figure out where to start, or more importantly, how to start.

But as fate would have it, a way presented itself in the form of a tickle on her hand. Where she found a giant, fuzzy bumblebee just wandering around. Evelyn did NOT do bugs of any variety. Little _eeps_ even escaped her when butterflies, harmless as they were, came too close.

_"GODDAMMIT!"_ Evelyn threw his coat down and flung her invaded hand toward the balcony door. The bee was chased by a puff of Force magic to stun the damn thing. Had it been a spider — Maker forbid — she would have scrambled backward and tumbled over the banister to her death, _after_ setting her tower on fire. At least then she would have been spared the look of pure panic on Cullen’s face. It was hilarious and adorable, and she wanted to laugh, but didn't, because Evelyn was utterly wigged out. She ripped her jacket off to swipe mindlessly at herself.

“Fucking bee!” She yelled in explanation while grabbing a piece of parchment off the nearby table. In a grossed out hurry, Evelyn flicked the poor creature outside, just out of the rain. Shutting the door, she leaned against to collect herself after the less than graceful freak-out.

Almost immediately Cullen shifted, drawing her eye. He was alert and focused, watching her with rapt attention.

“Don’t…” Evelyn said, feeling cornered by him and a sudden swell of conflicting emotions.

Of course, he ignored her, braving the chance to take a few slow, intentional steps her direction as if approaching a wounded animal. Reaching for her with a question in his eyes — _Am I welcome?_

Despite the answer being undeniably _yes,_ and despite being so goddamned glad to see him silently pleading in her rooms, she was still hurt. Unexpectedly though, angry tears burst from her eyes. Evelyn despised the moisture on her cheeks exposing the broken woman she had been so desperately trying to protect, but anger was always better than fear. She latched onto it; the tears fuel on her fire.

“You didn’t write back! Not ONE word!” The words hit him like a blow, and Cullen flinched.

“I tried hundreds of times. It never turned out right.” His face creased in frustration and he gestured sharply with both hands.

“Something would have been better than _NOTHING!”_

Instantly Cullen was before her. “I know. I fucked up. But I needed to see you, to tell you—“ For a half-second, his hands hovered as if he wasn't sure where his touch should land or if it should land at all.

Evelyn wanted to shove him away — _scream_ until it didn't hurt anymore — but she knew the moment she touched him the fire would burn out. Cullen knew it too; he saw it in her hesitation and acted. The roiling turmoil calmed the moment their skin met. Fingertips gliding along her cheek to tuck a loose curl behind her ear while the other wrapped gently around her upper arm.

“The connection changes nothing about us, or how I feel.“ His voice matched his movements, imploring and very cautious.

The petty, nasty part of Evelyn dug her heels in, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking into her eyes. The more rational part acknowledged _she_ created this mess and the last month couldn't have been any easier for him, and he knew that too. Cullen saw her heart wasn't in it. He fucking saw _everything._

Cullen murmured her name. A low, intimate rumble from deep in his chest and her resolve shattered.

Deep down Evelyn knew what she'd find in his eyes. Something she should have noticed long ago, knowing it'd be the only reason he was there, and while she didn’t meet his gaze just yet, she did respond to him. The heavy pound of his heart picked up speed under her fingertips, and her breath stuttered out as his hands moved to gently frame her face. A few more tears rolled from her eyes, but for an entirely different reason and he knew that too. Cullen swiped them away with a soft sound in his throat.

“Please look at me,” he said.

Beautiful brown eyes, flecks of molten gold, filled to the brim with that something _more,_ and just like that Evelyn felt whole again. The empty space in her chest filling so rapidly it stole her breath away, making her chest feel _tight, tight, tight_ in a different way.

“I love you, Evelyn.” His eyes seemed to be begging her to understand, but there was no need to beg. She understood, felt the same. Did he really not know?

“Cullen,” she said, reaching up to feel the whiskers his hands had been too shaky to shave as of late. When he leaned into the touch, her heart skipped one too many beats as if it forgot how to function and was trying to remember just how. “I love you too.”

The words felt inadequate, but to Cullen, it appeared to be more than enough. Relief rounded his eyes and the stress rolling off him in tangible waves vanished, and he leaned forward to rest their foreheads together with a deep sigh. Then he touched her parted lips with his own. Tentatively. Barely brushing them together. Breathing out a shaky exhale at their touch.

“The thought that I could have truly lost you almost drove me mad.” Cullen tangled his fingers in her hair. The touch was rough and needy despite its intended sweetness. “Maker be damned, I would have noticed you without the lyrium.”

At that Evelyn surged up to meet him and their lips crashed together in a passionate frenzy. There was a desperateness behind it she ached to settle, and Evelyn poured everything she had into it — _I love you. I love you. I love you._ — and the sound that rent from his chest squeezed at her heart.

She hadn’t noticed he was pushing her back toward the bed until her legs bumped against the frame, halting their progress. Her head spun. How much did he understand? Want? The bond would change everything. Too fast for that. Much too fast. They hadn't even talked. Of course, Cullen sensed this, the slight tensing of her body, but paused for only a moment to speak.

“Forget about the bond. This is about us. I need you."

And apparently, that was all the talking Evelyn required.

She slanted her mouth over his, devouring his moan when their tongues stroked together. The sound reverberated through her. Lightning surged through her veins. Cullen pulled her hair, humming an approval when it gave him access to deepen the kiss. He dragged her flush against him. At the feel of his arousal pressed into her stomach, Evelyn pulled him in further, scratching at his back with a hungry whine in her throat.

Evelyn broke away to pull the shirt over her head. Before it hit the floor Cullen kissed her. Hard. It took him a moment of struggle, but eventually, he pinched the snaps to undo her supporter. She sighed into his mouth as her breasts, freed from the restrictive band, settled a little lower. Cullen slipped the straps from her shoulders and carelessly dropped the garment onto the floor.

“So beautiful,” he said as his thumb swirled around her tight peak. Cullen paused when Evelyn slipped her hands under his shirt, eager to have them on him without it. He took the hint, releasing her to pull it over his head.

The sight wasn't what she had been expecting. Hawke once said Cullen had saved her ass, but Evelyn didn’t realize at what cost. A thick, rope-like scar spanned from shoulder to mid-chest, angry and red and impossibly fresh. How was he even still alive? Her hands twitched toward it, and Cullen pulled them to his flesh at her hesitation. It wasn’t any warmer than the rest of him, so there was no red lyrium embedded inside, slowly consuming him. A relieved sigh stuttered between her lips.

She placed an open kiss on the scar, enjoying the low sound vibrating against her lips when she did it again. Feeling brave, her hands moved down, and Cullen stilled. His breathing hitched when she unfastened the belt buckle, hands instantly clamping around her hips as if to restrain himself with a deep groan in his chest as she unlaced him. She wished to feel him through his underclothes, but just the brush of her hand against his hip had him cursing under his breath.

He was tense. Too tense. Trying to find a way to relax him Evelyn moved up to truly admire his form, taking extra care as her hands ran over raised scars and places the flesh didn’t knit together correctly, leaving odd angles and craggy skin. It was difficult to breathe when her fingertips ghosted across the large patch of twisted, red skin. It faded into a silvery web wrapping around most of his right side, similar to the destruction upon her left arm from stabilizing the Breach.

He sighed her name then, drawing her attention upwards. The darkness in his eyes wasn’t hated, or fear, and she could hardly believe it, but Evelyn didn’t question it. She leaned up on her tiptoes, and while she intended the kiss to be tender and chaste, Cullen had other ideas.

Desire bloomed deep at the first pass of his tongue. At the second Evelyn dug her fingers into his golden curls, swallowing the hungry noise he growled into her mouth. The man yanked at her belt, tossing it carelessly across the room. The shattering of glass made him rip away, and Evelyn laughed for the first time in weeks. So lost in the moment, Cullen had started shoving her pants down without unlacing them so they were stuck awkwardly around her ass and he was glancing around the half-dark room as if someone had intruded.

“Hopefully that was the awful vase some asshole sent even after I let Sera beat him bloody.” He looked absolutely bewildered and that just amused her more. “Cullen, you threw my belt.”

His eyes flitted downward, and a grin stretched across his face. “I was distracted,” he said matter-of-factly as he unlaced her pants.

If humor helped, then so be it. “You’re always distracted,” Evelyn teased. Much to her surprise, Cullen unceremoniously swiped her feet from under her, causing her to fall back onto the bed with a squeal. “Such a gentleman!”

He barked out a laugh. “You really can’t help yourself can you?” Undeterred he tugged off her boots and exaggeratedly tossed them aside. One sounded like it hit a bookshelf, the other knocked something over.

His playful smile was quickly replaced by a look that was enough to make her heart stop altogether. Evelyn propped herself up on her elbows to watch him run his hands down her legs as he peeled off her bottoms. She lifted her hips, then her feet to make the chore easier. Finished he stood tall, like a caress she felt his eyes on her flesh. He looked wonderful. The heat in his eyes. Hair a delicious mess. Trousers hanging teasingly off his hips.

“Apparently neither can you.”

He dropped her clothes to the floor beside him, adding to the slowly growing pile. “I really can’t."

Evelyn drew her legs onto the bed. Modestly angling her hips, but not hiding a thing. To his credit, Cullen finished undressing without more than a heartbeat of hesitation. Boots, then socks. An embarrassing sound left her when he pushed down his trousers. His cock twitched in response, and Evelyn beckoned for him, needing him inside her more than she needed to breathe.

Cullen crawled over her, their lips meeting in a slow, passionate kiss. Evelyn practically melted under the emotion Cullen could evoke through touch alone. She felt safe, desired, loved, and she prayed he felt the same. He broke away the second he ran himself through the slick evidence of her arousal, positioning himself. Their foreheads bumped together, and a tremor waved through him.

Evelyn pressed on his haunch with her leg to encourage him to her. “I love you.”

Cullen nodded before finally pressing into her. Gasping, Evelyn leaned up to kiss him as he filled and stretched her completely. She molded around him, feeling his every ridge. He sighed heavily into her mouth before breaking away to bury his face in the crook of her neck; throbbing and twitching inside her, but _not moving._

The control Cullen wielded was absolutely astounding. After the months of teasing and heavy petting that fueled her frustrated longing, Evelyn’s was non-existent. The heavy thickness in her was taunting. Wanting more her hips made little to-and-fro motions to encourage him along but trapped under his weight as she was, all it accomplished was to gently tug at his cock. His groan rumbled through her as he cursed. Perhaps he wasn't as in control as she thought.

Without warning, Cullen pulled back almost leaving her entirely, before sinking back into her. Once. Twice. Then bit her shoulder hard enough to leave a mark, but she didn’t care. Evelyn loved it, wanted more. Her legs spread wider, angling her hips to allow him to slide into her more easily. Silently asking, then begging: "Please, my lion. I need you."

Cullen groaned, and Evelyn felt a gentle tug in her very center. She didn’t dwell on whatever it was, because he then moved.

“There you are,” Evelyn moaned.

In answer, Cullen snapped his hips into her, seating himself to the hilt and enticing an unrestrained sound of pleasure from her throat, but it was cut off by a forceful pull at her core.

 _That_ she could not ignore. “Are you doing that on purpose?”

“No.” He pushed himself up, locking his elbows and gating her with his arms on either side. “I don’t know,” he amended when their eyes met.

Not wanting to break their joining Evelyn wrapped her legs around him when Cullen shifted back, clenching tight around him as he slid a little from her body. If he was about to withdraw from her, that thought thankfully abandoned him. Instead, he canted his hips off center and ground into her. She felt that pull again.

Almost in challenge.

Cullen watched her closely as he continued to grind their hips together. Usually, Evelyn would be uncomfortable being appraised so intensely in such a setting, but at that moment she welcomed it. His brow was relaxed, mouth caught on a sigh; his massive chest moved with each roll of his hips as if the sensation of their coupling kept knocking the wind from his lungs.

“You don’t have to seal it,” he said, and the roughness in his voice alone was enough to be her undoing. “It’s part of us. I— I want...“

Evelyn Trevelyan loved Cullen Rutherford, and she didn't care who knew as long as he did. Actions spoke louder than words, and she intended to remove any doubt.

In full.

As if sensing this, the fulfillment of his desire, a hand reached back to wrap around her hip and angle her, so each stroke rubbed against her little bundle of nerves. He then began to fuck her.

She could feel the strength of him. The way his muscles shifted, thighs hard against her; the throb of him as he moved in and out, ensuring the entire length of him was behind each thrust into her body. She was quickly winding up, liable to snap at any second, but before Evelyn lost herself completely, the mage wrapped her magic around it to unrestrict the flow between them. Sampling what it would be like.

Something deep and wordless passed between them. Reverent. All-encompassing. Indescribable. _More_ than she had ever imagined. And the sight of him — the _feel_ — of him was more than she could bear. She gasped his name, overwhelmed.

“Maker’s breath, you are…” He paused breathing heavily.

“Everything,” she managed, practically drowning in the love and devotion radiating back at her. As powerful and all-consuming as her release building to unbearable levels. Evelyn knew when she came, it was going to border on painful, how wound up she was.

"Yes. That.” Cullen was so close. Evelyn could feel it in his barely restrained strength rippling beneath her fingers. Sense it deep in her core. “I love you," he panted, and those simple words shoved her over the edge.

Evelyn saw white, like the first strike of lightning in a midnight storm. The mark woke, and she fisted her hand in the sheets to smother the nauseating green glow. Crying out she released her hold on the thread tying them together and desperately channeled her magic anywhere else. Ozone permeated the air and candles guttered out, but still, he moved within her. A long, drawn-out, torturous pace that strung her along like chain lightning before bringing about his own release.

Cullen captured her lips in a frenzy and plunged into her a final time. The muscles beneath her hand shuddered as he came. He all but collapsed on top of her, barely managing to hold himself up on a shaky forearm. Still clutched to one another, they slowly began to loosen their vice-like grip. Evelyn started with her hand, smoothing it over the sheen of sweat on Cullen's back. He nuzzled her neck before lifting his head. Their parted lips brushed together gently.

When he slid from her body with a staggered exhale, Evelyn shuddered at the loss. It left her empty in more ways than one as the connection snapped shut.

Cullen hooked a solid arm around her waist, taking her with him as he rolled to the side. Her head pillowed by his shoulder, arm bent, hand absentmindedly playing with the springy, golden hairs scattered across his chest. His heart rate regulated beneath her fingers. Her pelvis rested against his hip, leg tossed possessively over his, foot resting between his calves. One large hand spanned her hip, the other tangled in her hair. After what felt like hours, he spoke.

“Next time don't pull the Anchor in. Discharge it.”

Despite how the phrase ‘next time’ filled the hollow ache in her chest, the rest of that sentence made her uneasy. Evelyn pushed herself upright to look at him. “I don't know how to do that without using a crude form of Force magic.”

Frowning, he started to pick the remaining pins out of, what had to be, her rat's nest of hair. “Can you figure something else out? Channel it into a barrier or charm?”

“I'm sure I could, but Cullen,” Evelyn grabbed his hand and waited for him to meet her gaze. “What is this about?”

“Your aura doesn't feel right when you absorb the overflow. There's a dissonance to it for a while afterward. I'd rather you not let it in unless absolutely necessary.”

Well, that was terrifying. Sure there was some discomfort, but Evelyn had gotten used to it. Thought nothing of it, but now... What the actual fuck was in her hand?

“I'll figure something else out. I promise.”

“Ev, it'll be okay.” But she could see the fear in his eyes. She knew he could feel hers in the air. “Come close again. I feel… empty,” he said, frowning.

She curled back up at his side. “It's because-“

“I know,” Cullen interrupted gently. “I bombarded Hawke for days once she got back.” Evelyn smiled against his shoulder. Hawke had a knack for sarcasm that made it almost impossible to have a normal conversation with her.

“That had to of been awkward.”

“At first. Eventually, she figured out I was serious about us and things changed. I also spoke with Solas.”

She cringed. “It seems I underestimated you. I’m surprised you’re not angry.”

“It did not set well,” he muttered.

Evelyn pressed her hand over his heart, feeling it speed up. _The thought that I could truly lose you almost drove me mad._ She curled further into his embrace. The smell of his skin filled her lungs. The faint thrum of old lyrium sealed away in his bones added to the heavy, sated feeling in her limbs. She was where she belonged.

“I will never leave you.”

“I knew you wouldn't, not like that, but—”

The pain in his voice tugged at her. She almost couldn't believe it, but Evelyn would know the call of his soul anywhere. The fact she could feel it outside the Fade, unconnected, spoke volumes. She willingly followed the pull, leaning up to hush him with a gentle brush of her lips. Cullen sighed deeply at the contact.

He threaded his fingers into her hair to keep her near. His other hand felt the ridges of her spine, and Evelyn leaned closer so their lips were barely touching. His heart pounded a little more heavily under her fingers like he knew what she was about to say.

“I'm yours.”

He licked into her mouth with a deep groan. Evelyn felt that tug again. It was almost like how Cullen could never wait that additional half second for her touch, reaching out to grab her and pull her close. Her body responded almost immediately. Desire blooming low and fast, completely incinerating that sated, content feeling she was enjoying not even a full minute ago.

“You know that right?”

That sensation was new and familiar and _everything._ Evelyn found herself chasing it. Encouraging it. She wrapped her hand around his hardening length and pumped him. It was grabbing at her now, like his hands.

“Show me again.”

Cullen didn't need to say it, but she was glad he did.


	14. Dream Theater**

It was well past midnight before Evelyn escaped the never-ending Game and made way to her assigned suite in the guest wing. It was spacious but garishly decorated. After seeing the Royal wing, it wasn’t too much of a shock. She was just glad there wasn’t a dead body in the corner or a naked stranger chained to the four-poster bed. There was only Cullen on the sofa.

It appeared as if the man had simply fallen asleep while undressing. The jacket and blush sash of silk perfectly folded, resting on the back of the sofa. His black dress boots were on the floor beneath. One had fallen over, and the sock stuffed inside had tumbled out onto the wood floor. Cullen lay along the length of the couch in an undershirt with his belt undone, trousers unlaced, and one sock half on.

He’d begun the day clean-shaven, for once, but stubble was already shadowing his jaw. Even in sleep, his eyes appeared sunken and tired. His shirt damp; the skin visible coated with a sheen of sweat. Several ringlets rested on his forehead. She pushed them back from his eyes, smoothing them back into place. He leaned into her touch and mumbled something incoherent from dreams.

_I wish I could ease your pain, shield you from everything that haunts you._

The mage moved away to stifle the flames. Then she changed into a lightly armored robe, erected barriers over the entrances and collected the hideous quilt and several pillows from the bed to make a little nest between sofa and hearth. She watched Cullen sleep for some time. He looked almost peaceful except for the occasional tremor he would try to suppress even in sleep. His knuckles bled white as the limb was forced still. Evelyn took his hand and coaxed it open to entwine their fingers. When his grip tightened as the next tremor waved down his arm, Evelyn squeezed back. It seemed to help. Cullen quickly relaxed and a little sigh puffed from between his lips. Only then did her eyes finally grow heavy as the weight of it all came crashing down.

The Fade reached for her.

Evelyn turned away to no avail. The misty green fog began to shape itself immediately. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and braced herself.

Ostwick flashed behind her eyes. Rolling hills, seas of grass, a tower nestled into the purple mountainside. Unpredictable clouds rolled in off the distant bay. The promise of rain sounded in a low rumble. Air and Water called to her in a way the other elements didn't. She could feel it in the air around her. Smell it on the breeze snaking into the room. Evelyn knew exactly where she would find herself once her eyes opened.

As with all dreams, she was an observer and active participant.

She sat in an old, much-used armchair. Evelyn ran her fingertips over the cracks in the leather. Disregarding the matching ottoman before her, she kicked off her flats and tucked her feet underneath her. To her right there was a pile of carelessly discarded books; on her left a neat, organized stack. Some part of her recognized the Fade beneath the illusion. Through the narrow arrow-loop, her eyes were drawn to the rays of sunlight, but if she really looked, Evelyn could discern the Black City from the dark clouds rolling in. For the moment she didn’t try to change it knowing what it was about to show her.

Tonight, it seemed, was about torment.

_"Mon petit hibou."_ His low voice rumbled like the thunder splitting the sky.

It could be a spirit curious about the living, a demon bent on tempting her, or only a simple wisp of her memory, but at that moment, Evelyn didn’t care.

He stood at the entrance of the small reading nook. Soft lines showing his age creased as his thin lips curled up into a kind smile. His shoulder length, dark chestnut hair, pulled back into his standard half queue; jade eyes bright and honest. A sharp pang of loss pierced her heart so violently she thought it would kill her. Evelyn _missed_ him. Her eyes watered.

"Uncle," she greeted with a thick voice perfectly replicating the memory though it fueled by different means. Evelyn tossed the book onto the pile.

"You won't find anything here on that subject," he said, not unkindly.

Evelyn winced. That Cullen was part of this particular brand of torment made it all just hurt. She had lost so much, yet gained more than she'd ever dared allowed herself to dream. She found herself dwelling less and less on that loss and more and more on her gain. What, exactly, did that say about her as a person?

"It's not a reflection on you; much has been lost," her uncle said soothingly. It didn't help.

"I know. It helps to look anyway." Evelyn cleared her throat. "There's not much else I can do.”

Her uncle sighed and dropped onto his haunches in front of her. She longed to hug him, to be comforted. "The Chantry will continue to ensure that remains so. Don’t torture yourself. Resist seeking him out. Harden yourself. Latch onto your training — don't give into temptation."

"I didn't give into temptation. The man was screaming, responding was a compulsion. I've never felt it so strongly or had such control over the Fade, but I wish I hadn't found him,” Evelyn added because it was expected.

"Why is that?"

Evelyn had always assumed he pitied her, but there was something so sad in his eyes she hadn't noticed at the time. She wished she had because now it was too late. No matter what tumbled from her mouth next, his answer would always be the same, unless it was a demon who chose to play this specific role in her dream theater.

She never found it strange he called the First Enchanter by her given name. Ostwick was a peaceful, sedate place, but the fact they both knew of the connection and actively warned her to stop seeking Cullen out always made her wonder what sacrifices they made, if any, in the same area. Elenora’s passing had shaken her Uncle in ways she hadn't expected. Her heart squeezed at the memory.

"I'm not sure what I walked into, but something terrible haunts him. Knowing he is out there was bad enough, but now..." She trailed off, and the unfinished sentence echoed dreamily in her head.

_I know he needs help, and there's absolutely nothing I can do._

Even now that remained true.

"The Maker is as cruel as Man for turning such a blessing into a curse."

Evelyn pondered on the profound truth of his words. Magic. Soulmates. The Fade's ability to tempt and torment those cursed to forever walk its realm in sleep. And because this specific night was about torment — before he could wrap his arms around her in the comforting embrace she so desperately wanted — the scene around her began to dissolve, abandoning her in the raw Fade.

Swirling green fog. Suspended boulders. Darkness bled from the Black City. It crept from the sky, billowing in on the mist like smoke until everything was so black she closed her eyes. Defensively, Evelyn curled into a ball.

_When did I lay down?_

An earth-shattering scream abruptly silenced.

Her eyes snapped open. The air thrummed louder than the blood rushing through her ears. Everything was so _grey_ — the stone, the atmosphere — weak and watery from a moonlit sky.

_Not this._

It filtered in through the arrow loop, leaving her just barely able to make out the black beneath her feet. Wet and slick and _warm._ Slipping when she took a panicked step in any direction.

_Anything, but this._

Silence slammed into her so hard her mana was decimated in one fatal blow. She couldn’t—

Her head snapped back. The whiplike force sent her reeling backward. Her skull cracked against the stone. Black spots danced through the grey, threatening to swallow her whole.

His eyes — she couldn’t breathe — his eyes burned blue. A brilliant blue consumed by black. She barely registered the bellow of her name.

_Please no._

Her hands pawed uselessly at the plate, struggling to escape the impending darkness despite her heavy limbs. Through the fog settling over her, she remembered, it's just a dream.

_Breathe._

The nightmare pulsed away, quickly rippling outward from the force of her spell. Skyhold, solid and true, rose up around her. Relieved, Evelyn pulled herself up using Cullen’s makeshift desk that remained in the courtyard to that day. Her lungs greedily sucked in air while she tried to calm the erratic beat of her heart.

A hand grasped her shoulder. In her right-hand, lightning arced between her fingers; in her left, the Anchor woke.

She was greeted with the wry quirk of his lips. "You're improving."

"I don't know that's the case.” Evelyn dismissed the storm at her fingertips and angrily dashed the tears from her eyes.

"You shape those memories," Solas pointed out. "Just as you also shaped this place of refuge, but why Skyhold?" Evelyn found the question obnoxious. Solas knew why.

“It's my home now.”

"It’s more than that.”

“It is,” Evelyn hissed.

"Still, you continue to resist it," Solas countered dryly. The reference brought the pull to the forefront of her mind. "You resist it even now."

“I do not need to spy on his dreams to know that he is broken,” she snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am no better!”

“You will not find his dreams so haunted anymore.” It pissed her off Solas had been watching him. He noticed, but didn't seem to care one iota; determined to discuss the exceptionally private. “After what you experienced, you doubt him still and you shouldn’t."

Angry, she reached for him. It was like a strand of silk, barely perceptible. It glistened just beyond the range of sight, offering to lead her to where he dreamed.

They left the fortress. The air grew colder with each step. The deep, menacing kind that sinks its teeth into one with the intent of never letting go. Soon the pair walked along a vaguely familiar ridge of the Frostbacks. The scar left in the sky an aura of waving, shimmering color among the stars. Pale pinks, light greens, soft violets. The full moon bright and impossibly close. Snow crunched underfoot. Their breaths quickly dissipated in the frozen air. At the edge of the trees, Evelyn halted.

Several feet away Cullen sat motionless in the snow, cradling her broken, lifeless body. He stared off into the distance. A light breeze ruffled the fur of his mantle, disturbed his messy golden curls. Evelyn hated Cullen still blamed himself. Tears burned at her cheeks in the frozen wasteland.

“This is still a nightmare."

Solas gripped her shoulder firmly, in a reassuring manner. “Visit him often. You will see.” 

Evelyn managed to nod, wishing she had been stronger, that she had never caused him this pain.

“I understand it is too soon, Evelyn.” The use of her name surprised her. Solas only ever called her Herald or Inquisitor. “But what he will offer you is beyond comprehension. Do not turn him away simply because you doubt yourself.”

“I am not the problem.”

“He knows that it is you who doesn’t,” he said.

Evelyn nodded again, and before allowing herself to become fully immersed in Cullen's dreamscape, conjured herself up something warm. Wrapped in his coat she sat, leaning against the rough bark of a tree to watch an alternate reality play out. Solas’s departure occurred without notice.

After some time a lone tear trailed down his cheek. Only then did Cullen move, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling her close to bury his face in her curtain of hair.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

_Suddenly, the noon bell chimed in the distance. Their game had been progressing almost painfully slow, not that the Commander minded that fact one bit. Without thought, he leaned forward as if pulled by some unseen force toward the mage. Magnetism? Gravity? Magic? Elbows on knees, lightly grasping his hands together, just... absorbing her. He craved every smile, every word, every meaningful glance his direction, trying to decide if he was even reading her correctly. Cullen decided to test the waters. Vaguely, of course. He was never particularly adept at holding his emotions in check around Evelyn, and he prayed his expression was neutral enough._

_“This may be the longest we’ve gone without discussing the Inquisition or related matters. To be honest, I appreciate the distraction.”_

_“We should spend more time together,” she suggested without pause._

_Cullen struggled to pull something out of the incoherent mess that surfaced all at once. “Wouldn't you rather spend that time with Bull?"_

_Evelyn gave him a bemused look. "That doesn't mean we can't be friends."_

_He pushed his tower into position to trap her king. Cullen should be glad she treated him like the rest with her bantering and harmless flirting, but it wasn't harmless, and he wasn't glad. He was angry._

_"Yes, friends," the Commander agreed in a clipped and detached tone._

_She leaned forward and pushed the remaining knight out of the way, saving the piece but setting herself up for the game. "Cullen, I—"_

_He moved his bishop, and the Inquisitor’s fate was sealed. "And this one is mine," he interrupted with an empty voice, standing to leave._

_“It seems luck favored you today,” she gestured in surrender, even then trying to lighten his dark mood with quips and smiles._

_“Hardly,” he muttered._

______________________________________________________________________________________________

_Steps being taken two at a time rose above the quiet murmur of the courtyard below. No longer did the maps laid out before him or the objections and opinions of his officers consume his attention. Everything balanced on those hurried steps lightly pattering against the stone._

_The door swung open, and there Evelyn was. His dove, his home, his everything. Battle-worn and dusty. Evergreen eyes bright, shining with that unmistakable light._

_"I need to borrow you." She bit back her smile, capturing that full, petal pink lip between her teeth. There was nothing he wanted more than to tug it free so he could capture it himself. In a moment, he reminded himself. Say it. Tell her._

_"Give me a moment, and I'm yours."_

_And he was._

_As always, Evelyn arrived first, waiting for him at their unspoken spot where they shared their first kiss. Her staff propped up against the tower from where he emerged, breastplate on the ground alongside. Both positioned with great care. Several feet away she leaned against the stone that supported her unsteady legs all those months ago, looking out at the valley below. Snow coated structures as far as the eye could see._

_She didn't look as he neared, but the corner of her mouth curled up into a smile. His hand spanned the curve of her waist, smoothing across the small of her back and returning to its original position as she turned to face him. There was no preventing the grin that stretched across his face when she reached up to cup his cheek. Her short nails lightly ran through his whiskers._

_Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled her close. They carded through in his hair, ghosted across his cheek, searched for gaps in the plate to touch him. He longed to feel her pressed against him, and he held her tighter because of it._

_She shivered. From the cold of his plate seeping through fabric to flesh? From hands freed from doeskin gloves seeking the warmth of her skin? A gasped mine. A moan. His? Hers? She left him breathless and wanting. Quickly pulling back before he was lost, smirking at the way she chased after his lips already lost herself. A gentle touch for the scars hate and fear gave her. Giving her that look that said he would stay with her tonight._

_One last glimpse to get him through the next few hours._

_She had been watching him. Lips curled into an affectionate smile. Leaning on the stone to support her legs. Unsteady once again._

______________________________________________________________________________________________

_His mother. Skin pale and her eyes clear, brown like the dirt beneath her fingernails. Her laugh sounded like a melodious chime. She'd push a windblown, straw-colored curl from her face and throw out her arms. And he'd run into them. Her lips brushed his temple, and from nowhere a little leaf would appear. Mint, cool and refreshing in the summer's eve. She turned him around and pointed over his shoulder._

_His father. Rucksack slung over a broad shoulder. A stalk of wheat waving from the corner of his mouth as he walked up the dusty road. The brim of his hat lifted. Sharp golden eyes that softened with a smile. His teeth a vibrant white against his golden-brown tan from the sun-baked fields. A sign the yields would be good that year._

________________________________________________________________________________________________

_“Cullen.” Her voice was smooth as silk, flawless like her pale skin. Perfect. Too perfect._

_It had been too long since his last draught to do more than clear his own mind. He focused on the stone digging into his knees. Whatever was underneath his hands was cold and tacky. Blood, he remembered, his blood. He tensed when her nails raked across his scalp like he always wanted them to and she laughed darkly. This time he heard the double resonance. A bone-chilling echo that gave the creature away._

_Its hand ran down his side. Nails dug painfully into his flesh and his whole body tensed under the current poured into him. He ground his teeth to hold back the scream, not wanting to give the demon the satisfaction._

_“Wrong element,” he managed once it was done._

_Desire snarled then ice cascaded across his flesh. It burned more than the electricity._

_This time he did scream._

________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Cullen closed his eyes, but he could still see the flame sear across the sky like a shooting star. Feel the bow thrum in his hand. Hear her shrill scream echo through the valley._

_Why did I let her go?_

_He opened his eyes and forced himself to watch. Evelyn clutched at her shoulder, stumbling back from the monster and its Archdemon. Her back rammed into the trebuchet. She doubled over in pain. Unheard words flew between them. Evelyn released her shoulder to snatch a blade from the snow. She didn't, wouldn't, couldn't cast?_

_Don't take her from me._

_Fear tightened his throat. Guilt dropped heavy in his gut. Metal glint in the fading light. Even as the stone crashed into the mountain far to his left, his eyes never left her._

_Maker, please._

_She turned and ran, favoring her wounded side. The roar of the avalanche deafening as it picked up speed and mass overtaking her staggering figure. The monster flew away. All was still and quiet._

_I killed her._

______________________________________________________________________________________________

_Her body was a masterpiece. Soft curves he could get lost in, tight muscle to pull him in. The deepest wounds left the prettiest scars, and Cullen showed her how much he loved them. Loved her._

_He played her like an instrument, coaxing a symphony of passion from her perfectly formed lips. The beginning, a slow introduction. Followed by a loosely fugued allegro. Her heat was sweet on his tongue like her name — Arcanum for life. Fitting as that was what she had given him._

_“Evelyn.” He said it like a prayer. One she was the answer to. It rolled off his tongue and into her beautifully._

_The finale was sublime. Her magic surged, enveloping him in a comforting field even as it danced through the air unchained. She was resplendent. He basked in her glow, but it was short-lived._

_He was being pushed back against the headboard. Touch firm, but gentle. Hesitant, yet sure. Handling him like something wild and Cullen supposed he was. There was a passion — a fierceness — in him born from her love. It was hard to control, but she wanted to try, and he allowed it for singing so perfectly._

_Her motions were slow. Drawn out. Precise. Ensuring Cullen felt everything. When he growled, her hands locked around his hips, pushing down hard to restrain him. The control she wielded over him only excited him further._

_He gasped her name._

_“What would you like?” It came out like a purr. Breath hot against him, igniting his very blood._

_"You."_

_Her hands were ice, and they were suddenly everywhere at once, a balm on his overheated skin. He moaned loudly when they carded through his hair; her nails scratching at his scalp in that way he craved. He was stunned by the devotion in her eyes, he always was. She tugged on him. He felt it in his soul._

_Evelyn looked so small underneath him, but never afraid. There was a comfort she found caged in his arms, and he could hardly believe it, but never questioned it. Not anymore. His chest filled with her as he filled her. Cullen had missed her. Missed the way they fit perfectly together. He prayed this would be the time she sealed it._

_It was._

________________________________________________________________________________________________

_The door swung open, and there she was. Just looking at her made the tremors quiet. She entered. The door fell closed behind. The latch made a soft clicking sound._

_"What a day," she sighed, sounding as exhausted as he could sense, but she was still smiling. With her so close, almost under his fingers, everything was finally in its proper place._

_“I could practically hear you begging for me to come and rescue you.”_

_The expected joke. “Well, that would have been the gentlemanly thing to do.” Her hands smoothed across the span of his chest. A familiar gesture. He wished he had already removed the plate so he could feel it._

_Her pink sash of a mouth pliable. Soft. His._

_“It’s good to see you.”_

_Her smile softened, and he saw it. That unmistakable light._

_“I love you.”_

_“I love you too.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)As she isn't a Dreamer, she is only an observer while visiting Cullen. (This will probably change, post bond.)  
> (2)A few months are progressing here.  
> (3)She didn't break Cullen's heart while playing chess, lets just say he had some Bull/Ev insecurities for awhile.


	15. Pieces of Their Past

_Her hands shook as she gathered the ruins of the slender wooden box, tossing broken tools and shards of glass between the partially separated halves. He wanted to help, to comfort, to promise her he'd be okay, but the exhaustion, the stress, the damnable withdrawal - it was too much. It all coalesced into a sustained reverberation, drowning out the world around him. Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and braced himself against the scarred surface,_ grounding _himself to reality._ Waiting _for it to pass._

_When he could again feel the soothing thrum of her magic, he dropped his hand to join the other for further support. Cullen drew in uneven, ragged breaths, expelling them in shaky gusts. His limbs trembled almost uncontrollably. He had bit into his tongue._

_The mage slipped a comforting hand between the plate, curling possessively around the crook of his arm. He hated the way it vibrated against him. Against her. It was wrong._

_Something familiar, forgotten, a piece of a different person awoke, but the wrong one went quiet._

_“Cullen.” Her voice came out surprised, strained. She forced in a breath with an unsteady step back. It looked like she was about to collapse. “Stop.”_

_Horrified. Confused. Cullen reached for her. She stumbled out of his reach, catching the edge of a table to hold herself up. The mark flared to life, painting the room with its sickly green light._

“Stop.”

_He remembered how, but not fast enough. Evelyn had already allowed the wrongness in. Her aura bloomed back to life, corrupted into something unrecognizable and wrong._

_A vivid burst of emerald light split the stone between them._

_Gone was his light._

______________________________________________________________________________________________

His eyes opened. The room was darker than before. Shadows stretched toward him, an unimaginable black, a _nothingness,_ that threatened to swallow him whole. Out of the corner of his eye, one shifted. He bolted to his feet.

_Shiiiiing._

He returned the half-drawn sword to its sheath. The sound echoed quietly off the stone, like claws click-clacking against metal.

_Schlikt. Schlikt. Schlikt. Schlikt._

Cullen brought his hand up, fingertips running along the grooves of his breastplate. There was no sword of mercy; he was not truly there.

The spirit tilted his head and looked at him curiously.

_One thing at a time._ Cullen focused on what he could fix at that exact moment. Muscles sore, joints stiff from tremors and passing out in full armor for Maker knew how long. He stripped the metal from his body before collapsing back onto the sofa.

_Next, Cole._ He wouldn't be able to focus on anything else until the spirit was appeased. He had learned that the hard way after Haven fell.

“Why are you here?"

The pale blue of the spirit boy's eyes looked right through him. “Your hurt was loud. An old pain from before, when all magic sang the same. A shared soul sings a sweeter song. She changes everything, changes you, but she can't.” Cole’s voice was quiet, but there was an intensity to it that made him seem insistent.

"She can't?”

Cole's voice rose, and this time he was insistent. "Uldred marked you, but he did not make you.” Cullen winced at the spirit’s unusual bluntness. His face crumpled. “I’m hurting, not helping.”

“No,” Cullen assured. “It’s fine. I… I had a bad day.”

“She knows.” There was a soft knock at the door to the keep. “And so does she.”

The hood left her grey eyes half in shadow. She tilted her chin like Cole seeing so much, but unlike Cole saying so little. After a long moment, she finally spoke.

“We’ve theorized - the Inquisitor, Cassandra, Dorian and I - that tapping into your abilities was possible without lyrium.” She lifted her hand when Cullen opened his mouth to speak. “The decision to keep it from you was mine, and mine alone. I didn’t wish to further burden you in the midst of such a noble struggle. I see now that was a mistake. With that said, I have brought the file for your review.” She set it on the table before him.

He could feel her study him as he read. Cullen kept his face as blank as possible. After some time, she moved away. No longer feeling her oppressive stare, he sought out Evelyn’s script. Familiar with her research notes he was able to pluck out the most pertinent information because that was all he cared for at the moment. It happened. There was no denying it, and Cullen couldn’t think about how he felt about it until he knew how she felt about it.

Leliana had slid the deadbolts over, on all three doors, and brightened the room while he was occupied. Now, she lounged at his desk. Her feet were kicked up onto its surface, and she worried at a sealed piece of parchment. Immaterial, except it was Leliana. She gave him a sideways glance as he looked at Cole, who met his gaze and blinked slowly. The spirit was only trying to help. As uncomfortable and awkward as it always made him feel, it was what it was, and Cullen accepted that, but the Nightingale… When he looked again their eyes locked. She pushed back her hood, uncharacteristically showing sincere emotion. Regret.

“This is a lot to take in.” He made a valiant attempt to be civil. Hoping once she said her piece, she'd leave. Then he'd only have one obstacle left until he could find Evelyn.

“I know it is. I am merely,” Leliana waved a hand vaguely through the air, “awaiting your initial reaction.”

“It would be disbelief if it didn’t already happen!” So much for being civil.

Contritely the spy tipped her chin but offered nothing else.

"Maker,” Cullen sighed and rubbed his face with the meat of his palms. “This is all so… messed up.” He gestured at the thick file. “Lyrium is alive? It has altered me permanently? Everything was finally right. With her and…” He frowned at how abruptly his list ended.

“And nothing else because you haven't replaced Rylen.”

He glared at her, allowing the silence to stretch on. Unapologetic. Not caring what either read or saw or whatever.

Leliana put her feet back on the ground. “Come now Cullen,” she scolded gently, leaning over his desk and clasping her hands together. “You gave Rylen his own command. Replacing your Second-in-Command here affects his rank and accomplishments not.”

“It's easier to-“

“Work yourself non stop until you have a mental break? How many nights have you spent away from her working?” Cullen was surprised by her sudden venom. Twisting the knife right where she knew it'd do the most damage. Knowing he was ashamed to admit, even to just himself, that he had hardly seen her the past month and the Inquisitor had been in Skyhold for a majority of that time having already raced all over Thedas to keep herself occupied during his increasing neglect.

Cole’s hands fluttered. “Safe and solid, protecting and proud. He feels like quiet. Stronger when she holds him.”

Cullen blushed at the intimate snippet pulled from her mind. Touched as he was, he cleared the discomfort, on multiple fronts, from his throat.

“I must confess, I don’t know who would be a good fit.”

“Rylen has submitted five names for consideration. Two are currently serving him at Griffon Wing, but he said he'd trade one for another. My people are gathering extensive backgrounds for your review.”

Cullen glanced anxiously out the arrow loop. It was either dusk or dawn. He wasn't sure he wanted to know which. “How long was I…”

“A day and a half.”

He grimaced at the sheer amount of time. That made it dusk of the following day. Past episodes had never run on longer than a few hours, at most. Reluctantly, Cullen acknowledged that was when he had been sleeping semi-regularly and taking better care of himself. He wondered why Evelyn let him spiral so far off track. Not that it was really her responsibility, but she had never allowed it before.

“Who's running things?”

“Bull.” That was a strange choice. Cullen found himself errantly wondering if the Chargers were doing weird things with the trebuchets.

“Not Cassandra?”

Leliana slightly turned her head in confirmation. “If you like, we can do a trial by fire for the three candidates within Skyhold. Either way, you are to select one within a week’s time per the Inquisitor’s instructions. We need you, Cullen. She needs you.”

Despite the gentleness in which Leliana spoke, the vice on his chest tightened. Guilt. Shame. A paralyzing fear that he had messed absolutely everything up. A big tangled wad of feelings he couldn’t even begin to trace out, but what he found most upsetting was the fact Evelyn wasn't there having this conversation herself.

“I will not disrupt Rylen’s command. Trial by fire for those here. Is she alright?”

Unexpectedly, Cole answered. His eyes were cloudy and far away. “She saw the fear inside. Blackness like pools of hate. A heartbeat. Not hers. Not the problem.”

Cullen gaped at Cole a moment. “How is that helping!?" His voice rising, temper flaring.

“I don’t know how else to say it," Cole frowned.

“I do,” Leliana said, moving across the room with her usual grace. “The Anchor, not her, is what triggered your reaction, and-”

“Reaction?! She was _Silenced_ Leliana, by me!” Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. The outburst had amplified the dull ache in his skull. It momentarily throbbed mercilessly without rhyme or reason. Once it evened out, he looked up. Leliana now sat opposite Cole on the opposite side of the low table before him, creating a curious triangle whose base points were at odds with the apex. Both wanted to fix him when he just wanted to fix the mess he made.

Leliana held out a little jar to him. Hesitantly, he plucked it from her open hand.

“What's this?”

“For your headaches.”

Cullen sandwiched the small jar between his hands and twisted. The lid came off with a little pop. Lemongrass and something floral with strong notes of peppermint. One deep inhale dulled the sharp pulsing behind his eyes. He felt his lip quirk up. Dipping his finger into the thick, creamy concoction, Cullen collected a trace amount to rub against the pad of his thumb. Instinctively, he ran his finger and thumb along the bridge of his nose. A cooling sensation instantly trickled through his head, slowly making its way to the base of his skull. After a few moments, the migraine vanished. He wrapped his hand around his nape with a deep sigh. It even soothed some of the stiffness there.

_Is there anything she can't do?_

Cole smiled happily then, but it quickly faded when Leliana shifted in her chair. Whatever they were dancing around was making him nervous.

“What is it?”

Leliana extended her arm out with the sealed letter trapped between two fingers. He greedily snatched it away.

_CSR,_

_Please focus on your recovery and not what happened. It is probably too soon to joke about, so I will spare you that, but I will say I understand why it happened. I hate that part of me too, and I do not expect you to accept it when I don't. I'm sorry it added to your misery that day and since you shared such a dark piece of your past, one I know you would rather bury deep and forget it exists, it is only fair I do the same. And no, I do not do so out of pity or obligation, I want you to know everything about me as I want to know everything about you._

_I've already told you about the scar behind my ear,_

“Her first taste of fear,” Cole said quietly, causing Cullen to look up from the letter. “Thunder cracked across the flagstone. Twin screams, scared and shocked. No one hurt but her.”

Tension strained his already sore body. He flexed his hands, fingers cracking. He tried to stretch it from his shoulders. This time his anger wasn't directed at the Trevelyan Master of Arms who clobbered a frightened, confused child who harmed no one when her magic came to fruition. Though Cullen still hoped her father hung him for hurting his little girl so severely, she almost died. It was directed at himself for wounding her further.

Finished, Cole blinked owlishly and Cullen, a little agitated, leaned forward. Elbows on knees, bracing himself for a piece of her past he did not want to know.

_and as a swordsman, I am sure you know what left the other._

Already Cullen wanted to stop. For a moment he stubbornly told himself the past was not important, only the future, but without that knowledge, he would never understand how deep Evelyn's pain ran. How could Cullen convince her he wanted to help her heal in more ways than one if he didn't understand? So, Cullen forced himself to continue.

_Ostwick remained neutral when the Circles fell. We just opened the front doors and let those who wished to leave do so, but for some reason, some dissenters remained, and a bloody fight broke out between them and our First Enchanter. Knight-Commander Trevelyan, my uncle, refused to carry out the Rite of Annulment. The problem had been solved in the fight. Those of us who survived defended and fought alongside the Templars or were innocent children caught in the crossfire. However, the experience corrupted a handful of Templars, and one night, this group slit the throats of ‘sympathizers,’ mages and apprentices alike as we slept. With our numbers already decimated, it took time to organize a successful push back. My brother got to me just in time at the cost of his own life._

Knowing what was about to happen Cullen shot Cole a desperate look, but it was pointless. The spirit's eyes were already unfocused, and Cullen’s heart was in his throat when he spoke.

“His eyes burned blue. Steel so sharp she didn't feel it killing her. Silenced, she couldn’t say goodbye.” Then to add to Cullen’s heartache, Leliana picked up where Cole left off.

“Only seven Templars and five mages survived the slaughter. The solidarity they had for one another is what earned them a seat at the Conclave.” She straightened her sleeve. Again, immaterial, except it was Leliana. “And I don't say the following to be dismissive or cruel, but you've had over a decade to try to come to terms with what happened at Kinlock. Halamshiral marked one year for Evelyn to do the same with Ostwick.”

Cullen ran his hands roughly through his hair. That explained why Evelyn had been so distant and closed off even after she succeeded far beyond expectation. Without a second thought, he had accepted her dismissive: _'Today was … very long.'_ Determined to see her smile by offering that dance she had asked for.

“And to make it all worse, she carries the entire weight of Thedas on her shoulders,” Cullen mumbled before returning his attention to her letter.

_While my loss has been painful, I have gained much, and that makes it bearable. I do not know what that says about me as a person, but there it is._

_This time I was not running away. I wanted to give you space to focus on getting better and not worry about me because I promise - I'm okay with what happened. More than fine. I sincerely believe reconnecting with that piece of you is essential. The lyrium is there and bridging the disconnect must be the answer to your struggle. I will gladly do what I can to help. You would never hurt me, and I know that. So please remember that yourself when you dwell on what happened because I know, you will._

_Shit blew up before I stepped foot in Orlais. I pray you will forgive me for what is sure to be a long and stressful separation. I miss you already. Please write, I'll need it._

_Nothing’s changed._

_EIT_

Why had he not acknowledged it sooner? It was the only reason they'd put Bull and not Cassandra in charge.

“Orlais?! Why isn't the entire team with her?” Cullen gestured at Cole for emphasis.

“She offered to meet Harding in the hills of Emprise du Lion to do some reconnaissance work,” Leliana answered without hesitation. Her legs were crossed with her hands folded one atop the other on her thigh. Poised. Calm. Every bit the woman of steel who dealt in secrets and death, except her hood remained pushed back. Fire red hair framing the concern etched onto her face. “It was to be a simple expedition. Map out the area. Check on the refugees. But-"

“It sings _sick_ music.”

Leliana shot Cole a reprimanding glare for the less than delicate interruption. “Harding has found evidence Samson is in the area.”

Cullen was having trouble keeping the sudden _rage_ in check. The strain was too much in his current state. He'd be lucky to not lapse into another withdrawal episode before this conversation was over.

“Fix this. Send support to her _now,”_ Cullen demanded, jabbing a finger toward the ground for emphasis as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The throb in his skull was rapidly rekindling with each frantic pound of his heart.

“We’re scrambling to tip the scales in her favor. A battalion is preparing to leave as we speak. Those who wish to join her can,” she said looking to Cole, not him. “The Inquisitor will spearhead the campaign while our soldiers secure the area in her wake once they arrive on site. Orlais is sending assistance to help wall the enemy in. Her first priority is to storm the labyrinth of Suledin Keep where they're growing red lyrium in mass from prisoners captured from the local village.”

A gust of fresh air baited him to look up. Cullen hoped against all hope this was all a some nightmare, and she wouldd be standing in the doorway, but it was just Cole leaving to join her. Despite sounding as if Leliana was only giving report in Council, she looked worried to the point of being physically ill.

“Where Samson has left a self-proclaimed ‘Spirit of Choice’ named Imshael in charge.”

And that was all he could endure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Lyrium is alive, it can be corrupted, etc - in my head cannon the Templars don't need it & its another long buried secret of the Chantry - It's a convenient method of control, over them & the mages.  
> (2) My Thedas communicates by raven & thus correspondence moves quickly. Also my timeline is a little skewed from the "official" one. Conclave happens mid 9:41 & Leliana will become Divine early 9:43 because... reasons. Not that it really matters, just an fyi.  
> (3)I always felt Emprise du Lion should have been given more weight/importance in the story line, so I have done so in my world.


	16. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I disliked the battlements cutscene after Cullen confesses to the Inquisitor about Kinlock. It felt at odds with their relationship (like having a justified meltdown is grounds for tossing someone aside, um what?), so I’m going to pretend it didn’t happen. They had the relevant conversations, sure, but in Council or alone or whatever.

Cullen woke up alone. The room was freezing despite the fire roaring in the hearth. Cautiously, as to avoid startling her again, he approached the open door to the left of the fireplace. Though technically autumn, it had ended long ago here in the mountains. The snowfall had picked up, whispering as it fell through the still night air. Kneeling in the middle of the snow covered balcony was Evelyn.

Snowflakes slowly melted in her chestnut hair, encouraging the lazy waves to tighten into curls. Her unmarked hand caught several puffy flakes to rub between her fingers. Evelyn's bloodshot eyes met his. A small smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.

“I can feel you.” Relief flooded him at that simple, taken for granted fact. For the millionth time, Cullen thanked the Maker for bringing her back to him.

He leaned against the door frame. “Perhaps you should try to get some sleep then.” That had been the wrong thing to say. The beginnings of Evelyn's smile faded, and her eyes went vacant again. After a few moments, she blinked several times and they slowly started to brighten with her sharp intelligence and wit.

“When my mind is quiet I still hear it,” she practically whispered.

Once the rest of her team had arrived at the forward camp, Cullen had breathed a little easier, but everyone had been sorely unprepared for how long-term exposure to red lyrium would affect the mages. It was practice to avoid it entirely. If one could feel its warmth, they were far too close. Unfortunately, her team had to walk straight into the heart of their operations to destroy it from the inside out. Twice. Leaving her and Dorian with some sickness that addled their minds and wreaked havoc on their mana pools. In a last-ditch effort, Solas and Vivienne sent research back and forth to Helisma and Dagna in hopes of getting some headway to counteract the effects already taking hold, but it had been too little too late.

“Forgive me. Your aura feels clean, I just assumed.” Uncomfortable, Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. It was a miracle Evelyn came back to him in one piece, and everything felt awkwardly suspended between them thanks to the residual effects of red lyrium exposure.

“Nothing’s changed.” Her eyes crinkled fondly at the corners. That tiny smile tugged at her lip again.

Cullen felt like she knew exactly what he was feeling. Somehow. It wasn't the first time he felt that way either. Part of him suspected the connection was more solid for Evelyn, that their intimacy had pulled part of it from the Fade. The idea made accepting her sentiment easier. Plus, he didn't wish to argue. Leliana had stressed multiple times that they all had to agree or it stayed between them and that she had been the roadblock each time it cropped up. He knew it wasn't Evelyn’s fault, just as he knew she would say the otherwise.

He felt his lips curl into a smile of his own. “So, what are you doing? Breaking in your new casuals?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion and Evelyn looked down as if she had forgotten entirely. Her fingers skimmed over the charcoal grey, wool leggings; lightly ran along the ivory leather of her coat. “I told you she would come through. Eventually.” Her smirk was there and gone in a flash; touch lingering on the deep red and gold scarf artfully draped around her neck. “Did you give this to her?”

Cullen breathed a little easier that Evelyn noticed this time. She had looked at it for ages earlier as if it was familiar but unable place why. “For such a good cause I willingly parted ways with a little.”

Despite only viewing her profile, he could still see her eye water in the low light. The little laugh which escaped her was thick with emotion. “I'm surprised you let her get within ten feet of you after the beehive incident.” She looked away and sniffled. Her reaction warmed his heart, reinforcing his slowly shifting opinion of the wily elf who ‘went to war without Evelyn’s approval.'

“She sent me a note with one of those tiny cakes,” Cullen confessed.

“Did you eat it?”

“Maker, no.”

“What a waste.”

“You would not have been around to spend my last moments with if it was poisoned.” Cullen was confident he was grinning away like some lackwit, but he didn't give one damn, pleased with the mere fact, they were having a conversation. The banter, a lovely perk.

“Shut up.” His heart about burst out of his chest at her faux scowl and he turned aside, so the little handful of snow she threw harmlessly sailed past him and into her rooms. The laughter quickly died on his lips as he faced her again.

“There you are,” he said. Evelyn's blush was a beautiful thing. He tipped his head toward the circular depression in the snow before her. “Now, what are you up to, my dove?”

Her eyes slid shut, and a slender hand moved to rest over her heart as if it waking from some slumber and she needed a moment to catch her breath. “I, um,” she cleared the emotion from her voice, fingers tapping over her heart before tangling in the scarf. Her eyes fluttered open. They were bright with that light despite the tears on her lashes. “We need to keep the snow from building up on your tower. If the barrier breaks, it could dump several feet inside. A rune would be too difficult to work into the stone, so I'm calibrating a Fire glyph.”

"Or perhaps I could just stay here.” The word went up a little at the end making a question where there shouldn't have been one.

Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth. “Shit. Did I say that part out loud?”

“Oh, no! No, you didn't. I was- Wait, you want me here?”

Evelyn scrambled to her feet. “Don't you dare- “ Then a delighted peal of laughter rang out into the night as she slipped on the snow. Cullen, already moving to meet her, reached out and her hands locked around his forearms. He grabbed her foreamrs in return to help stabilize her. Maker knew he did not want her to fall on her ass after everything else she had been through.

Evelyn cursed the new boots under her breath. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. Snow was caught in the dark sweep of her lashes and there was a healthy flush of color to her cheeks. Cullen was captivated. Enamored. She had never looked so… perfect. He tilted her chin up, thumb swiping a single snowflake from the corner of her mouth. His heart stumbled over itself at the way her lips subtly parted.

“Don't you dare act like you didn’t ask.”

He blushed mercilessly at how epically he fumbled that. “It wasn’t supposed to be a question.”

“Even better,” she said before surging up to him. Their teeth cracked together from grins neither seemed to be able to entirely put aside - until he realized how long it had been since he tasted her, touched her skin, felt her pressed up against him. Cullen was practically starved, and a low sound of protest rumbled from his chest before forcing himself to come to a full stop.

He pulled her close while he got himself under control. Evelyn rested her cheek against his chest where his heart was racing. Her fingers gently traced along his breastbone; taking his lead, the mage didn't move or speak. After some time, Cullen broke the peaceful silence, mainly because if nothing else, it had to be said.

“I'm sorry for pulling away.”

She looked up at him. “I'm sorry too. I should have told you to step back, but it was coming from a selfish place at the time.”

“There's nothing wrong with that.”

Her brow furrowed a little bit. “Well, now I know.”

Her response was curious. “What is wrong?”

She shrugged. “I’ve just been having problems separating work out from us.” As expected, her hand waved between them before tangling back into the wool wrapped around her neck.

“I stopped trying to do that months ago.”

Evelyn opened her mouth to say something, but promptly closed it and frowned.

“What else?” Cullen brushed her waves back over her shoulder; hand grazing her cheek to encourage her gaze back to him.

“Were you mad at me?”

He was very confused. “Mad? When?”

“After that Council when we were discussing setting up a temporary space for the Mages’ College since we’ve already established something for the Templars and how-”

“Evelyn,” he interrupted firmly. “Magic is tearing the world apart, but that does not mean I want things to return to the way they were. I said: Templar support. Equal ground.”

Evelyn nodded. It was a little stiff as if she wasn't she believed him or not.

“There needs to be a safe way for Templars to leave the Chantry, especially now that we know for certain lyrium is the gateway. Sure, the conversation got a little heated, but that does not mean I was mad at you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Evelyn agreed, shifting her weight toward his hand on her hip.

“I just… got distracted,” Cullen said, pulling the hand from the crook of his neck to gesture vaguely. “Things are better now.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” she smiled softly. “But I’m still going to test the calibration. I like your loft.”

The sentiment was unsurprising even with the stark differences between their quarters. The Inquisitor was lavished with gifts. She gave a majority of them away only keeping some for sentimental reasons or the mere fact no one else wanted them. Much to the displeasure of Josephine, Cullen had allowed Sera to haul off most of the fluffy dresses Evelyn hated to make room for her new casuals. In fact, now that he was thinking of it, Cullen had seen one on a training dummy earlier that day.

Cullen followed after her and watched her fingers skim over the shallow depression. Lighted traceries began to etch into the stone beneath, vaporizing the snow within the circular area. A blazing orange, flashing bright like the sun when the spell was complete. The snow accumulated on the balcony melted the split-second the glyph went dark. Only the waves of heat rising from the intricate branches and curls made it distinguishable in the low light.

She sat back on her heels. “I think that will work perfectly.”

“Will it make the room warmer?”

“We can check the stone’s temperature in the morning. If it is too hot, I’ll do some adjusting,” Evelyn said thoughtfully.

Cullen reached down to help her up. “Come to bed with me.”

The mage blushed deeply. “Everything is still a little intense.” While not the farthest thing from his mind, Cullen had no plans to push any intimacy when she was just now beginning to emerge from the fog.

“I had nothing of the sort on my mind,” he said, cupping her cheek and enjoying the rare embarrassment on her cheeks. “You still feel a little cold to the touch, and I would like you to get into some dry clothes at least.”

“I think I can manage that - at least,” she smiled, fond yet a little sad. Suddenly, Evelyn stepped close to wrap her arms around his waist. A deep breath passed through her and Cullen found himself running a comforting hand along the length of her back.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in months,” she said.

The simple observation pierced his heart. It made Cullen hold her tighter. Keep together what he feared was breaking apart. Cullen could feel her tears on his shirt, and it killed him that he was to blame. Had Cullen gotten over his pride and replaced Rylen sooner, the last couple months would have played out much differently.

With help, Cullen wouldn't have been consumed by routine, daily tasks _and_ planning an assault on an unbreachable fortress, allowing him to be at her side after hours where he belonged. Then, Evelyn would have never feared his scarcity was due to anger over a simple argument in Council. The four of them fought, all the time. It was a miracle they got anything accomplished, but perhaps the brute honesty was what made it all work.

Lastly, a full campaign, one Cullen would have been a part of, would have been appropriately vetted while Harding’s team mapped out the area undetected. It would have alleviated the necessity for Evelyn to personally lance the defenses in a desperate scramble to catch all the scattering pieces. Only one slipped through her fingers - Samson - and it was only a matter of time before Evelyn blamed herself for something she shouldn’t have had to do alone in the first place. Next time, Cullen would be with her.

“I will make it right,” he said. “You walk into danger every day, and I am going to take you from that for a while.”


	17. Home**

They enjoyed nine days of freedom.

Freedom to do nothing but enjoy one another while they lounged on the porch swing to watch clouds drift by or swam in the lake. Their preferred spot was warmed by a Fire glyph hidden beneath the dock. On occasion, they sparred just to keep themselves loose and limber, and Cullen learned the hard way, much to Evelyn's delight, that a magical sword and shield was just as good, if not better, in her hands. He found comfort in the fluid proficiency in which she defended herself. With some convincing, he even tapped into that forgotten piece of himself, and the _smile_ that flashed across her face when he disrupted her spells was divine.

They were gifted ten evenings of peace.

Reading or laying in the sea of grass to look at the stars and crescent moons above, all very small and far away. They took advantage of the solitude and learned even more about one another. Evelyn's favorite color was blue like the midnight sky when lit up by a flash of lightning, but dusk was her favorite time of day. Cullen finally told her about his regrettable someone else. She was also a Templar, and they had used each other to forget. It ended when he was promoted to Knight-Captain and finally learned the truth surrounding the rumors he could never shake. Bri had slaughtered those escapees - for him. It was then his eyes were opened, but it was too little too late. Evelyn had looked at him then, but not with fear or disgust, and when she touched him, it was gentle and full of comfort.

And they were allowed ten beautiful nights filled with nothing but one another before it all fell apart with two sharp raps on the door. Cullen could see his disappointment reflected back at him in her eyes. Evelyn smiled sadly, just a tiny quirk of her lip, and answered the door.

“Scout Harding,” she greeted kindly.

“Sorry to bother you, Inquisitor.”

Evelyn leaned against the door frame. “I think this is the first time you've ever meant that.”

The dwarf chuckled. “There's a first time for everything, like seeing you without pants!”

The cup of coffee came out to the side as she gestured. “Well, I was on holiday."

Harding’s answer came quick, reassuring. “We don't have to go this very second.”

Evelyn tilted her head. “How's your team?”

“This is the easiest assignment we've ever had. It has largely been a holiday for us too.”

The expected joke. “And I only had to drag you to the ass crack of Ferelden to give it to you.”

Harding snorted. “Way better than the last crack we found ourselves in.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Evelyn said then took a sip from the mug.

“Leave late, ride hard?”

She glanced over her shoulder, and Cullen tipped his chin in agreement. “You know me too well Harding.”

“Mid-afternoon.”

There was a crinkle of parchment. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Not necessary Inquisitor.”

Evelyn remained in the doorway long after Harding’s footfalls went down the front steps. Eventually, she lifted the mug to her lips. Parchment, wax seal broken, twined between three fingers of the hand at her hip. Silhouetted by the morning sun, back to him, Cullen couldn’t see her eyes, but there was a melancholy emanating from her very being. Cullen understood. He felt it too, but he knew it ran deeper for her, far beyond their two weeks alone coming to an early, abrupt end.

Part of this was about finding herself in the demanding roles consuming her. Evelyn sacrificed time and sleep and sanity running here and there doing for others without second thought or pause. Giving even when she knew full well they’d rather spit on her than thank her for the trouble. It had spiraled out of control. Only the Maker knew how she continued to shoulder it all.

Evelyn didn’t often need to be pulled back into the light. Usually, she forged ahead, determined, but this was a blow she didn’t immediately recover from. Their time together could not end like this, so he baited her.

“The ass crack of Ferelden?” he asked playfully.

She huffed a little laugh. Her chin tipping down caused her cascading, chestnut waves to swing aside, further removing her face from view, but Cullen could picture it. Vivid sharp. The sweep of her lashes falling over her haunting, beautiful eyes as they flit downward. The small, sweet smile tugging at her lips. Needing to see it, Cullen pushed himself out of bed.

“It is beautiful,” Evelyn began, looking over her shoulder at him. “But it's got nothing on yours.” Cullen shook his head affectionately. Very much regretting how he set himself up for that one.

“Shut up.”

“Awwww,” Evelyn exaggeratedly whined as he wrapped a blanket around his hips to join her. “Don't cover up the good bits.” No matter how she chose to compliment him - sweetly, silently, teasing - it always made him blush. His entire body, from head to toe, felt like it was on fire.

“Harding does not need to see me without pants,” he grumbled.

Evelyn bit at her grin as she looked up at him. “Why not? It will liven up her holiday.”

“I said shut up,” he said, giving her ass a playful slap.

She squealed, then the sweet musical chime of her laugh warmed the early morning air. Cullen couldn't help but laugh along, glad a little joke - at his expense - was all it took. Evelyn handed over the mug they had been sharing ever since she accidentally dropped and shattered the second the morning after they arrived.

“No sugar?” He asked after taking a sip.

Evelyn shrugged. “You're rubbing off on me. Do you want to read this?” She lifted the parchment scissored between two fingers.

“Not really,” he answered honestly. Leliana would not disturb them unless it was important, but Harding’s lack of urgency already negated his initial concerns.

“We will be busy when we get back, but it's nothing dire.” Evelyn closed her fist around the parchment and reached out the door. The correspondence began to blacken and curl from the inside out until there was nothing but ash in her hand. “Harding and I joke about the far corners of Thedas we find ourselves. I meant no offense.” She dusted her hands off, examining them to ensure they were clean before accepting the offered mug.

“I promise, I did not take any.”

“I love it here,” she said. “This place shaped you. It’s peaceful, even smells like you.”

Cullen followed her gaze to the forest edge. The fragrant air filled his lungs when he inhaled deeply. Wood, foliage, and soil - bold, earthy and alive - precisely as it had been all those years ago, but what had struck him most when they first arrived was the subtle, floral undertones Cullen hadn't paid much attention to as a child. That sweet scent he'd come to associate with home. Cullen met those deep evergreen eyes, and he couldn't help the affectionate smile that curled his lips.

“I have been thinking the same, about you that is.”

“Really?”

“Yes, those little white flowers.” He gestured vaguely at the meadow between them and the tree line.

“Lilies of the valley?” He nodded, and Evelyn smirked. “They're poisonous.”

“Of course they are,” he chuckled.

“Not to change the subject, but I have been thinking on something. Would you mind if I had Dagna work a setting for the coin you gave me? You know, leave it intact but wear it around my neck or something so I can't lose it in the field?”

The idea made his heart swell. “I would like that.”

There followed a long comfortable silence. They traded the mug back and forth until the coffee was gone and only then did Evelyn speak again.

“You belong here.” Her voice was quiet and sad.

Cullen wanted to touch her, but didn't, knowing that was all it would take for them to get lost in each other one last time. He felt she was trying to say something meaningful. Essential. So all he allowed was: “I belong with you.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled as her mouth curled up into a tiny smile. “This time here, do you think this what having a home together would feel like?”

“I think so.”

Unexpectedly, her eyes watered. “Do you think we will ever get here?”

Cullen did not realize how much he feared the opposite until that very moment. He gently touched her shoulder. Evelyn wore one of his button-downs, charcoal grey. The dark color contrasted against her eyes, making them vibrant - bright with that unmistakable light. His future. His everything.

“We have to.”

“We have to," she agreed as if saying it was all it would take to make it come to pass.

As one, they stepped back inside and locked out the world a little longer. Cullen let the blanket fall aside, backtracking toward the bed. His eyes never left hers even as her hands deftly trailed down the front of the shirt. Evelyn threw it open, and Cullen reached underneath. Delight coursed in a shudder down his back, tingling in his fingertips as he touched her skin. Drawing her close, Cullen sighed at the feel of her naked body pressed against his. He calmed the urge to claim her; determined to draw out their last bit of time together without titles and responsibility hanging over them.

Cullen basked in her every detail, emblazoning them in his mind. He rubbed his nose against hers, inhaling deeply. Her bouquet was stronger there, enhanced by the moisture heavy in the early morning air - sweet and floral from the little bell-shaped flowers dotting the landscape. Her lips were feather-soft against his temple as he slipped the shirt from her shoulders. Evelyn bared the long, perfect line of her neck with a little sigh. His hands wandered, feeling the memorized curves of her body. Running his fingertips along every inch of her skin. Worshiping her. _Savoring_ her.

To his great pleasure, Evelyn allowed him the indulgence, remaining present yet passive. She knew what he wanted, and Evelyn let him know she wanted it too with her soft sounds and quiet sighs. Each one encouraged his touch to lighten further. Seconds stretched into minutes, perhaps minutes into hours. Time didn’t exist. Nothing existed except her.

His hands ghosted over her breasts, relishing in the way the soft, rosy peaks further hardened under his touch, and Evelyn sighed his name, drawing his attention to her mouth. Cullen ran his fingertips along her full bottom lip, perfect for biting, and her eyes fluttered shut. Cullen drew her near, letting the anticipation build. Her breath came in quick, shallow gusts against his lips. Softly he brushed his lips across hers. She tasted faintly of coffee and mint, then he swallowed her moan when she opened for him so their tongues could slide together.

Cullen shifted, drawing his legs onto the bed and taking Evelyn with him. She lifted herself up, and he couldn’t prevent the low sound that rumbled in his chest when she took him in hand. Pressing him against her entrance, hot and wet, she hovered in place a moment. He cupped her cheek and her fingers entwined around his.

“Yours,” she breathed, allowing him into the welcoming give of her body.

Cullen saw white, the pleasure from Evelyn’s heat around him intense. As intense as the connection flaring to life, no longer needed her magic to encourage it to open, flooding him with feelings that were not his own but felt very much like his own. She settled her weight, pulling him fully into her. With a staggered exhale, Cullen loosened the grip he had on her shoulder, thumb glancing apologetically over the knot on her collarbone. While Evelyn seemed to enjoy the occasional roughness, Cullen hated when he left any mark, no matter how temporary, upon her.

“Mine,” he said. Bracing himself, Cullen gripped her waist and flexed his hips, pressing deeper.

Unprepared, Evelyn fell forward. One hand gripped his bicep, the other his shoulder, and she rested her forehead against his. Cullen threaded his hand through her waves and encouraged her lips to his. He poured everything he had into the kiss. The ferocity of his need dispersing with each languid pass of her tongue. Bringing himself down so she could build him up.

Her hold on him tightened. It was almost imperceptible, hardly more than a twitch, but it alerted Cullen that she was preparing to move. Evelyn rolled her hips with an arch of her back, pressing close before pulling away. He groaned loudly at the first incredible return roll of her hips, flexing up to meet her; gaze never leaving the depths of hers.

Together they moved in perfect synchrony, and Cullen lost the ability to think about anything but Evelyn around him. Neither tried to quicken the pace. Their movements slow and tender. His release building just as slowly, coiling tighter and tighter within him, until any moment, any thrust could be his last. Cullen shifted, pushing himself more upright and the next roll of her hips brushed her little bundle of nerves against him. Evelyn fluttered around him and gasped his name. He whispered hers, like a prayer, and she tremored again.

His hand tangled in her hair, thumb tracing along her cheekbone. He suddenly pulled her close and slanted his mouth over hers, devouring her whispered, _I love you,_ seconds before she shattered. The mark flared to life, and she fisted her hand in the sheets. Her barrier, warm and familiar, washed over him like a comforting field. Some little charm cooled the cabin air, a balm on his overheated skin. Still, he moved within her, holding back until Cullen could no longer handle the force of her clenching around him, tight and hot and ineffable. A ragged cry was riven from his chest when he finally tumbled after her.

After several, long moments, his eyes blinked open. Cullen nuzzled against her neck, where her heart was racing, much like his own. He shifted, straightening his spine with a quiver of muscle. His shaft sensitive as he slid a little from her body. Evelyn came close again drawing a deep groan from his throat. His forehead fell forward to meet hers. She gently tugged on his hair, and he lifted his head to meet her gaze, her lips. There were no words. They had said everything they needed through the beautiful way they came together.

Cullen fell backward into the pillows, and lifted her. The loss of her warmth around him was balanced out by Evelyn draping herself over his body. Their legs twined together, and once his breathing regulated, he found his voice.

"The connection, why is it still open?" he asked. Evelyn nuzzled against his chest, placing an open kiss on the scar there before lifting her head. Her long hair brushed against his arm, sending a chill up his spine.

"I breathed a little magic into it, just enough to slow its fade. Make it easier to adjust."

"You didn't-" Evelyn silenced him with a soft kiss.

"I did it for both of us."

He nodded, and she snuggled back up next to him. "Nine days..." An echo of his sadness resonated back to him. Unquestionable. Undeniable.

Her fingers ghosted along his jaw. "Was not enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's shirts are large on her, so even with no pants the goods were still covered. Harding didn't get a show of any variety to liven up her holiday. *sad trombone*


	18. Maybe She is the Problem**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a little burned out with this fic, thus the long delay between updates - sorry about that for those following along.

The intricate rendering of the Eye of the Inquisition worked into the new breastplate was a work of art. Evelyn ran her fingers over the hairline grooves, feeling the complicated series of enchantments worked into the metal.

“Harritt, I didn’t authorize these changes.”

“No, Inquisitor, you didn’t.” Though she couldn’t see his mouth under the arch of his mustache, the red facial hair drooped exaggeratedly. “Commander Rutherford did.”

Evelyn frowned. “Why?” Instantly, she felt awful for asking. Harritt looked extremely uncomfortable, and not wishing him to believe she was displeased, began to ramble. “It’s fine. Great work. _Beautiful._ I just don’t understand why.”

“For your birthday silly!” Dagna chirped.

Now, Evelyn was extra confused. “My birthday was like…“ She paused to think. Her mind still wasn’t entirely back at Skyhold. Most of it was still in Ferelden, refusing to leave the quaint, little cabin, and another piece was focused on the fading connection, trying to get a read on how Cullen was adapting to being connected without being ‘connected.’

“Almost two months ago,” Cullen said from behind her, causing her to jump. Evelyn cursed under her breath, then scowled at him for the flutter of amusement in the back of her mind. All that accomplished was making his smile go crooked.

She waved him off. “I was distracted.”

“I’m just glad it wasn’t me for a change,” he said, abandoning all propriety he snaked an arm around her waist to lead her from the undercroft. “A runner will be by for her armor.”

His hand remained on the small of her back as they traveled in front of the dais and made a beeline for the door to her quarters. Once the door latched behind them, he slid the deadbolt over and leaned against it. He let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’ve been working on the commission with Harriett for a while. I had every intention to give it to you properly, but then the day came and went while you were in the field, and I-” he abruptly cut off, displeasure hardening his features. “You—“

“Cullen, don't.”

“Don’t nothing. You deserve better.” His arm cut through the air with finality.

Her temper flared up. White hot. “Don’t ever say that again! Did the last few weeks not solidify anything between us?! You deserve better too! Had I—“

“Maker’s breath, Evelyn, just shut up.” Their teeth cracked together as his lips crashed into hers, and Evelyn quickly found herself caged in against the wall.

“I can want the best for you,” Cullen said before slanting his mouth over hers. Only breaking the kiss to growl against her lips from time to time.

“I am allowed the same guilt you feel. I _know_ it’s there.”

“Quit, doubting me.”

“I’m practically begging you to seal it every time I’m inside you.” He pressed his hardness into her for emphasis and hummed appreciatively when she broke the kiss with a sudden gasp of his name. His fingers tangled deeper into her hair to better angle her for his enjoyment and nipped at a pulse point before rumbling in her ear. “Sometimes I think this is the only way I get the truth from you.”

Evelyn was not quite sure how it had happened so fast, but she was far gone. “I need you,” she said, fingers fumbling at the straps on his vambrace. Desperate to touch him, in any way, but unable to do so with all the metal strapped to his body. He groaned, and Evelyn cried out when he roughly unlaced her. The piece of metal she had been scrabbling at dropped to stone at their feet with a loud clang. She reached for his laces, but he snatched her wrists up with one large hand and pinned her against the wall. Evelyn was far too stunned, and aroused, to react.

“Perhaps, it’s time I stop begging, and you start.”

Cullen removed his glove with his teeth and pleasure coursed through her when his hand dipped between her thighs. They groaned in unison as two fingers slid slowly along her, firmly circling around her little bundle of nerves as they drew back. Evelyn forced a serrated breath into her lungs.

“I’m waiting,” he said.

“I—” she choked off when a long, sword calloused finger entered her with embarrassing ease, pushing in deep and withdrawing slowly.

And she was lost.

Lost in the way Cullen seized control, taking what he wanted and controlling what she received. Evelyn forgot what she wanted with his fingers working magic between her legs, as a second digit stretching her further. His harsh breathing against her hypersensitive flesh amplified the current singing in her veins, and the feel of his fingers pressing in again and again and _again,_ and she didn’t know if she could hold back much longer. Evelyn could sense how much he wanted her. How aroused he was at this little game.

“Please. Not like this.”

Cullen tsked. “You can do better than that.”

“If you finish me like this—” she gasped when his fingers slipped from her to swirl around her bundle in a delicious, torturous, _oh so good_ reprimand. “Shit. Cullen, I’ll get you back when you least expect it.”

"Not enjoying yourself?” His hand went completely still, and Cullen intentionally rasped his stubble across her neck, drawing a hungry noise from her chest.

"No," she clipped out.

He laughed darkly. "Liar." He punctuated the word with another circle around her pearl.

Once.

Twice more.

Then she let out a little, distressed noise, trying to grind into his hand when another didn't immediately follow. Remaining still, his breath continued to pass repeatedly over the shell of her ear. Cullen allowed the moment to stretch, his hand on her but not moving, until Evelyn couldn’t take it anymore and whimpered. She squirmed, trying to find a way to get more, but was unable to find any purchase in his grasp to do so.

Cullen was right, she had lied. Evelyn loved when he took control. Hated it when he denied her touch. He frustrated her while he worshiped her and Evelyn felt like she was going to come from the anticipation alone. Her slit was throbbing, _aching_ for him in any way she could have him. Hoping against hope Cullen would allow them to come together, Evelyn knew she’d have to play by his rules if she wanted to find out.

“If I seal it you’ll never be able to escape it,” she managed.

“Why do you think I’d ever want to?”

“You’ve seen the worst magic has to offer, and—“

“And now it’s given me perfection,” he murmured. “I want you, Evelyn. You are mine. Now, kiss me.”

Evelyn turned her head, and he swallowed her cry when he picked up where he left off. One deep stroke of his fingers, punctuated by several achingly slow circles around her bundle after they withdrew had her breaking away with a wail of his name. Cullen nibbled on her earlobe, obviously delighted with each sharp cry and earnest plea he drew from her lips.

“You’re so close," he whispered into the shell of her ear, taunting her.

And she was. It was a kind of madness. Evelyn trembled almost uncontrollably at the way he kept stringing her along. Building her up, only to drag her back, and then making her surge forward until she teetered right on the edge again, leaving her wondering if he'd finally allow her to shatter against him or pull her back yet again. When his finger pressed back in, Evelyn drew in a ragged breath and _begged._

 _"Please,_ Cullen. It can’t be a rash decision. You don’t know what you’re asking for. I love you. Let that be enough.”

His fingers pressed in a final time, before pulling out to dance mercilessly over her nub. Evelyn came with a breathless shout as she broke against him. Her release unspooling messily, casting off in waves as the mark woke, leaving her barely able to direct the energy into a safe path.

“I know exactly what I ask for,” he said, a little breathlessly. Cullen released her to gently turn her face and brush their lips together, swallowing her mewls as he withdrew his fingers. He hushed her and slowly ran his fingers along her to drag out her pleasure and bring her down gently at once.

“It is you who doesn’t fully understand what I offer." At that, he pulled away entirely, snatching up his vambrace and glove before beginning the hike up to her — no, their quarters. Evelyn let her head fall back against the stone while she tried to come to terms with what just happened. She could hear Solas as if it were only yesterday.

_You doubt him still and you shouldn’t._

_You resist it, even now._

She sighed and laced herself up. Then slid the deadbolt back over before retrieving the cowl she had dropped. Evelyn hadn’t even thanked him for the upgrades to her armor or for what she held in her hand. Beginning the long walk upwards, she was determined not to let her thoughts spiral as she felt the powerful wards woven into the lighter than air fabric — darker than night, softer than silk. Running it through her fingers, she felt the five capsules sewn into the seam. _Take one if you hear the song._

Once on the landing, Evelyn hesitated. He sat on the settee, rubbing at his face. She didn’t need the connection to know Cullen was frustrated and upset.

“I’m not very good at this am I?”

“I’d be nice to… get it all out in the open from time to time.” He dropped his arms but continued to stare at the floor. “Sometimes I feel like we want different things.” Thankfully, Cullen didn't resist when she straddled his legs, intent on being close and making him look at her.

“No, we don't. You're right, I doubt you and I shouldn't. It's me. I'm the problem," Evelyn said. He remained quiet, just staring into the depths of her eyes, waiting, and that was fair. Cullen had already told her what he wanted, had been hiding nothing from her since they became something more.

“I'm afraid I won't see this through to the end because of this,” she held up her marked hand. “Or Corypheus, and if that comes to pass — if something happens to me — you'd feel it. Experience it. Before everything just… goes quiet.”

“At least I’d know you weren't alone,” he said quietly. Remembering the fall of Haven, Evelyn felt her eyes water, finally understanding what, exactly, it was that haunted him in that specific recurring nightmare beyond her near death.

“It's not that I don't want it. I just don't ever want you to regret it,” Evelyn said in a small voice.

“No, Evelyn, never. I wouldd only regret it not happening.” The furrow of his brow deepened. “You carry so much alone, and you do not have to. I can't always be with you, and this… I can wait, just not indefinitely.”

She had always known Cullen was honest but _feeling_ the intensity of it through the connection squeezed at her heart. Evelyn should have just done it that first night at the lake. It would have given them some time to adjust away from all _this._

“You won't have to,” she promised.

“As you said, nothing rash.”

“I'll know when I'm ready.”

“So will I," he agreed. "I am sorry for earlier, that was unfair.”

“A little intense perhaps, but nothing I didn't enjoy.”

Cullen smirked. "I know."

She felt her cheeks heat. “Shut up.” Still smiling, he kissed her, soft and chaste, in apology.

“Get ready, Evelyn,” he gave her waist a little squeeze. “We're going to be late.”

She got halfway to the table where the runner had left her armor before what Cullen said registered entirely. “We?”

“It’s Samson,” he shrugged, leaning back into the settee. He stretched one arm along the back of the seat and gave her a pointed look. “You said we would handle him together.” Evelyn could kick him right in the ass for using her assurances against her, but she wasn't sure why she had an issue with him taking her literally.

“I'm not quite sure how I feel about this,” she admitted.

“Apprehensive.” A small, lopsided smile graced his handsome face, seeming to enjoy her discomfort. “The question is why?”

Evelyn chewed on her lip a moment, wanting to say something witty and dismissive, but she needed to do a better job opening up. Share in his willing transparency.

“The little bit of magic I do around you is well and good, but out there," she started to explain but then stopped because Cullen must have seen it coming. His smile grew, and his reply came quickly and gently chiding.

“Evelyn, the first time I saw you, you did not seem too damn concerned what anyone, especially me, thought of your spell casting.”

“I didn't think I'd ever see you in person,” she began feeling offended, and perhaps a little bit stupid, but the profound understanding in his eyes quickly erased that. Evelyn did not give Cullen enough credit. Sure, experience wrought demons specifically for each of them, but that did not mean they were defined by them. Of course, magic wounded him, scarred him in ways she could not begin to imagine, but he always cared despite those experiences. Furthermore, she didn't fear every Templar that crossed her path, so she should not have ever allowed herself to think in absolutes like that. Evelyn felt herself smile at the sudden realization, how silly she had been this whole time.

“And there you were, surrounded by demons." She gestured vaguely at him as if the predicament had been entirely self-inflicted. He chuckled and pushed himself out of the loveseat to come close. Evelyn felt herself further relax at his proximity alone. Her body swayed toward him as if magnetized and his hands locked around the flare of her hips to pull her flush against him. She ran her fingers through the tawny fur of his collar before resting her hands on the breastplate. Cullen did look rather handsome in full gear, even if she disliked the inability to feel him.

“You saved my ass,” he said. No shame or embarrassment fueled the low tenor or of his voice, just a raw honesty, tinged with gratefulness that began to squeeze at her heart again.

The fledgling Inquisition could only try to contain the chaos, and they had been doing so for days before she regained consciousness. Maker knew how exhausted Cullen had been by the time she came along. Having never really allowed herself to think back on it before, Evelyn found that it left a bad taste in her mouth, and she did what she did best when faced with something that didn't set well — employed sarcasm.

“Well, it is an ass worth saving,” she said, reaching around to give his perfect, unarmored behind a good pinch. He jumped with a little yelp of surprised and Evelyn giggled. His reaction was obscenely adorable. Cullen shook his head with a roll of his eyes, fondly exasperated, and Evelyn found endless joy at the hint of color creeping up his neck.

Unsurprisingly, however, Cullen didn't allow her to deflect. “Now let it go. I am not afraid of you or what you can do. I have never been.”

“Alright,” Evelyn said with mock reluctance, earning herself another pointed look. She reached up to wipe it away affectionately with her hand. Cullen chuckled and snagged her wrist to place an open kiss on her palm.

“I love you, Evelyn, even your magic. It’s part of who you are.” And as if to drive the point home, Cullen then brought her marked hand up to repeat the gesture. To say Evelyn was moved was an understatement. Cullen despised the Anchor, and she did her best to not touch him directly with it, even while it was inert.

A soft sound managed its way through the tightness in her throat. Evelyn leaned up to wrap her arms lovingly around his neck, praying he knew what was in her heart despite not having the capability to voice it at the moment. His eyes slipped shut, and he sighed happily as her nails ran down the back of his scalp.

“I think part of me knew,” he said quietly when his eyes blinked open, “even then. Your barrier felt so familiar and you, I couldn't look away.”

“The things you say.”

“I mean every word.”

She tapped her hand over her heart, feeling it irrevocably in her very soul. Making her chest feel _tight, tight, tight_. “I know you do.”


	19. Life Is Full of Roadblocks

Evelyn leaned against the door, watching him work for a moment. His face was creased in concentration, pen flying across the parchment. It came to a sudden stop.

“Feeling better?” The _smile_ he flashed her could cure anything. She grinned back reflexively. 

“I swear, that stuff will be the death of me,” she said. Apparently, he wasn't ready to joke about it just yet as his bright smile quickly faded. Cullen began to put aside what he was working on.

“Did the capsule not help at all? Vivienne was confident it would.”

“Dorian is fine. I probably would be too if…” Evelyn paused to listen, touching at the tender wound on her shoulder where a Red Templar had broken off a chunk of red lyrium into her flesh. Cullen had yanked it out almost instantly, but the song had already begun. The concoction had prevented the worse of it, and at the moment, all she could hear was the comforting, quiet thrum of Cullen. Evelyn smiled reassuringly.

“I managed to fall asleep some at some point since you obviously snuck away,” she said.

He leaned back in the chair, rubbing the back of his neck. “Forgive me-“

“No.” Her voice was firm, brokered no argument. Cullen would not be allowed to blame himself. Evelyn took a few steps into the room. “This is not your fault. It’s mine; I was distracted.”

His brow furrowed. “Distracted. By what?”

“I don't like you in the field,” Evelyn answered bluntly and without hesitation, determined to be as honest and open as he. Cullen deserved it.

He smiled from ear to ear. "You don't like it?”

“It was stressful.”

“Stressful?” The word came out on a little laugh.

She gave him a pointed look. “I'm so glad you find this amusing.”

He cleared his throat and tried to look contrite, beckoning for Evelyn to come closer before removing his gloves and vambraces. The moment she was in reach, Cullen leaned forward, closing the remaining distance between them to snag her about the waist with a deep sigh through his nose. He tugged on her, encouraging her to come as close as possible. She didn't fight it - why would she - and Evelyn settled onto his thighs, glad Cullen removed some metal so she could touch him. He was always so warm, solid.

“My dove,” Cullen said, looking dejected as if she were preparing to leave that very second. “I don't like you in the field either. You know that, right?”

Evelyn opened her mouth to argue but promptly closed it. Of course, he didn't like it. Why would he?

“I hate we forced you to take a more military role instead of diplomatic, but it made sense in the beginning when we needed the Herald to drum up support.” He undid the top two buckles on her jacket.

Afraid the truth would only wound him, Evelyn chewed on her lip a moment while Cullen began to pluck the pins from her hair, dropping them carelessly onto the surface of his desk.

“I like being in the field,” she said eventually. “Leading by example. It’s liberating after all those years of…” Evelyn trailed off, not quite sure how to say it. She had fond memories of the Circle and had never questioned the order of things until she was free to look at the sky in its entirety, knowing she could follow the horizon indefinitely. Then everything changed.

“I know,” he said, carding his hands through her hair. Her eyes fluttered shut as she enjoyed how Cullen was stripping away the mask to find the woman underneath. “If my position did not require me to be here, I would be out there with you.”

A pang of regret then. Evelyn loved her companions, found immense comfort in their presence, even worried about them. They shared her joy and pain, and if Evelyn were to be completely honest, a large part of her remained at Skyhold fretting over Cullen. What if he had another episode? What if he wasn’t strong enough to pick himself up afterward? What would happen to him if someone attacked Skyhold while she was away? It would take a madman to do such a thing, but that precisely was what they were dealing with.

Cullen’s words from a week ago echoed in her ears. _It is you who doesn’t fully understand what I offer._ And she didn’t - until recently.

His hands settled on her shoulders, and her eyes opened to find him searching her face with uncertainty, no doubt in reaction to the silence she allowed to stretch between them while she enjoyed his attention.

“Cullen, I liked having you there,” she said gently, reaching out to trace the lines of his brow. Evelyn watched as the tightness left his features. He seemed to melt under her fingertips, leaning toward where their skin met with a soft sound in his throat. It was not that the Commander couldn't handle himself. Not once did he get in a pinch, unlike herself.

“The only reason it was stressful was that it was unfamiliar and I worried about you.” The last few words came out in a rush as a flare of heat crept across her cheeks. Cullen obviously caught the color as the slight curl of affection tugging at his lips went suddenly lopsided with open adoration. She felt herself smile reflexively, opening up to him was so easy. There was never any sarcasm to combat or confusion or disgust at her feelings. Just simple acceptance. “Had you been at my side from the beginning.” 

“It wasn’t for lack of trying,” he said dryly.

Now, Evelyn couldn’t think of anything else. She needed him at her side. Needed to know Cullen was safe and whole and hers even when Evelyn was on the other side of the earth. She inched closer to him, hating how his breastplate prevented her from settling over him. She wanted to feel him stir against her.

“Leliana can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.” Her joke had heat but of a different variety. His eyes darkened causing the flecks of gold to molten. Evelyn set the rerebrace she had removed onto his desk.

“Like continuing to send that dimwit runner my way.”

Evelyn smirked despite the desire flaring up, her need for Cullen pushing aside all good reason. “I suspect she punished you, and not me, for my failure at submitting that Fallow Mire report.”

Her comment gave him pause. His hands hovering on the second to last buckle on her jacket. His brow dipped down, chin tilting to the side as he thought back. Evelyn leaned forward to speak across the shell of his ear, brushing his hands aside so she could take over.

“The first time he crossed your path was that day on the battlements when he interrupted our first kiss.” She mouthed his earlobe, loving the strangled sound it pulled from his throat. His hands slid under her silk undershirt, fingers digging into her hips to try to pull her closer. He rumbled with displeasure when he couldn’t.

“I am going to kill her,” he said against her neck. “She could have ruined everything.” He bit the crook of her neck and Evelyn tangled her fingers into his golden curls, dragging his perfect mouth to hers. She pulled blindly at his armor and coat, desperate to remove the frustrating physical barriers between them, but she was lost in the clever twist of his tongue, unable to stop.

Until the door to the keep slammed open.

They both jumped and cursed and were given zero seconds to register what was happening before the dwarf started talking.

Evelyn held up a finger to silence her for just one fucking second, reliving that interruption from all those months ago in full. The only thing different about this particular intrusion was the lack of conflicting emotions. Evelyn was only irate. Livid. _Apoplectic._ She could practically feel herself immolating from the inside out like Rage itself.

She took a deep breath, focusing on Cullen’s hands still under her shirt. They tightly gripped her waist just above the flare of her hips. This time she could easily decipher why. She didn't need to look at him to know he was angry. Even with the metal between them, she could feel it radiating from him: tense and hot and tangible. However, without a doubt, he was mainly trying to stabilize her, silently cage in the ‘Trevelyan temper.’ He called it that in all good fun, but at that moment Evelyn was a little resentful. Comparatively, Cullen snapped at people considerably more than she did. Pissed as she was, Evelyn didn't plan on bitching the dwarf out. They were, after all, being incredibly intimate in a very public place.

She exhaled that deep breath, attempting to let it out slowly and evenly. Allowing the stiffness in her shoulders to fade away as she released the build up in her hand. Utilizing the simple charm that required an inordinate amount of mana to literally cool her down and felt comforted in the automatic barriers that accompanied a majority of her spells. The little shields were second nature, calming.

Centered, the mage opened her eyes.

The dwarf cocked her head, briefly taking in the situation she intruded upon, but it apparently didn't register because then she asked: “Are you two talking?”

“What does it look like Dagna?” Evelyn clapped back, briefly throwing her hand up. It smacked back down against the metal and fur on Cullen’s shoulder. Cullen pinched her side in silent reprimand. In response, she tugged his hair with the hand still tangled in his curls at the base of his skull, and he hissed in a sharp breath.

“Sorry,” Dagna allowed before jumping right back into whatever it was she wished to discuss.

Evelyn groaned and rested her forehead against Cullen’s while she buckled up her jacket.

“It’s fine Evelyn,” he whispered under the Anarchist's droning.

She pulled back to look at him, barely catching the general gist of what Danga was going about. Poor Cullen was left hot and hard, again. That much was obvious, but he was smiling and she could see the victory burning in his eyes.

“We have plenty of time,” Cullen added under his breath.

Evelyn managed to smile back a little. That much was true. Her schedule was empty for at least a week due to the campaign ending so quickly. Evelyn began to put her Commander back together again, starting with straightening the ruff of fur and strapping it back into place. She wanted to kiss him, but now was not the time. Instead, she smoothed her hands across the width of his breastplate, a familiar gesture despite not being able to feel it, and it made him smile again. Only then did she have the capability to let him go. Standing, Evelyn began to compose herself.

“Anyhow. I have it." Dagna held up a glowing red disk, looking quite pleased.

 _Perfect timing._ "You mean this rune?" Evelyn asked, plucking it from her hand.

"It’s not just any rune, I made it with red lyrium- "

Evelyn winced, holding it back out for the dwarf to take.

"It's safe!" Dagna chirped before continuing. "And what’s left of poor Maddox’s tools. The rune acts on the median fissure of lyrium to-" An amused smile slowly bloomed involuntarily across Evelyn's face, and Dagna sighed. “It’ll destroy Samson’s armor. He’ll be powerless,” she summarized blandly.

Evelyn slipped it into her back pocket. "We should render our enemies powerless at a stroke more often." Dagna grinned and nodded excitedly.

"Maddox covered Samson’s tracks thoroughly,” Cullen said, seamlessly slipping back into his Commander persona while he finished re-equipping the last piece of armor they had managed to remove. “But wherever Samson retreated, we’ll find him.” Finished Cullen smoothed back his hair. Giving Evelyn a _look_ that stopped the world beneath her feet. “Your armies stand at ready, for whatever you command."

Evelyn chewed on her lip a moment, struck dumb by the promise in his eyes.

"Perhaps a trip to the desert? I hear the Approach is absolutely lovely this time of year." As the new voice came unexpectedly from behind her, Evelyn jumped, and cursed, again. Cullen’s face went blank. The last piece of her rough around the edges Commander slipping into place.

"Alistair!" Dagna squeaked.

"Everyone," he greeted.

"Does anyone else want to swoop in unannounced?" Cullen grumbled, finally letting his frustration at the sudden roadblock lash out.

Alistair pushed himself off the door frame to dip into a sarcastic half bow that drew a smile from her. "Apologies. Swooping is bad,” he said, handing over an unsealed piece of parchment. "Activity is ramping up at Adamant Fortress. Doesn't seem ominous or anything does it?"

Reflexively, she stepped back into her role. "Notify the others. We leave within an hour's time."

Alistair nodded, his humor curbed by the blank mask of the Inquisitor. “Leliana and the Lady Montilyet await in the War Room.”

"Commander, with me." Evelyn handed over the intel without reading it. She knew what this news meant for her, for him, for everyone inside the fortress walls. She was quiet the entire walk. They both were. Evelyn wished she could read him, but it had been far too long since they had last come together, and she found she did not have the strength to look into his eyes.

Once in Josie’s parlor, Cullen grabbed her arm and crushed her against him. "Our strategy in regards to Adamant has been outlined for months. With the Orlais at peace, travel time will be cut in half. Wait for me."

She nodded against the fur. Her hands fisted into the red and gold wool, eyes watering at the mere fact he couldn’t _feel_ her embrace.

"It'll be alright," he said even though it sounded entirely forced.

"What if it isn’t?" she managed through the fear threatening to strangle her. The things the Venatori were convincing the Wardens to do… she shivered, and Cullen peeled her off of him, his hands framing her face, so she had to look at him. The tears ran over at the fear she found is his amber gaze.

“I can’t bear to consider anything else.” His voice broke along with her heart.


	20. Adamant**

He kissed her like they were alone. Ten more paces and they would've been, but he couldn't wait any longer. When it ended, Cullen stayed close, running the side of his nose against hers in an attempt to feel her with all the metal and leather between them.

“Can we get inside first?” Evelyn asked on a little laugh but didn't move to put any distance between them. It made him breathe a little easier.

“Forgive me." Everything was wound up so tight he was having trouble compartmentalizing. The noise coming from that fortress sounded too much like Kinloch.

“There is nothing to forgive,” she said, resting her forehead against his. If anyone could begin to understand what haunted him, it was this incredible woman. After sometime she pulled back to look up at him. “We only have a few hours, and I’d like to wash off first.”

Cullen tried to swallow the rock stuck in his throat, but couldn’t. He managed to nod, and she pulled away. But her touch didn't leave. Her gloved hand slipped into his own, their fingers tangled together to take those last ten steps.

Soldiers, familiar ones Evelyn kept close, guarding her tent held the flap open with a dip of their chin. Cullen was unsurprised to find the space already set up for the both of them. His belongings alongside hers even though he had only just arrived. Two basins. A large pile of blankets and pillows and furs. Braziers burning low a short distance from each corner of the makeshift bed.

Silently the pair undressed in the dim light, setting their armor aside precisely in case they needed to dress on the fly. There were no words when Evelyn pulled the last articles of clothing from her body. Cullen gripped her arm, harder than intended, and pulled her close. Gone was the simple lyrium rune, no bigger than a penny, that enhanced focus and in its place on the delicate silver chain was the coin he gave her. Silver and gold, a much-cherished memento that 'enhanced luck.' He lifted it from where it rested against her chest, thumb running along the familiar groves.

"Do you like it?"

Cullen managed to dip his chin in confirmation. He couldn't seem to find his voice, but the small smile that curled her lips told him she understood. Evelyn held his hand in both of hers, the coin resting between their palms.

"Come," she said, "let's get cleaned up."

The corner containing the basins didn’t have canvas beneath it. It was left open with a decent size lip around the edges to keep sand out of the remaining space. It was quite brilliant as the sand sucked up any water that fell upon it, leaving their feet relatively sand-free. They bathed in silence. It was a little strained, at least on Cullen's end, but the way her aura seemed to drape over him, still and calm, was comforting.

She sent the warm water cascading over her hair one last time before setting the bowl aside to wring out her hair. Evelyn quickly wrapped a linen around herself before grabbing the second and gesturing for him to turn around. After a moment’s hesitation, Cullen obliged. Evelyn pressed the towel against his back and began to dry him off. When Evelyn stepped in front of him and pressed the towel to his chest, she finally broke the silence between them.

“At least I won't have to worry about you as much this time," she said.

He lovingly touched her cheek. Now that his hand was on her, he didn't think he'd be able to take it off. While reassuring that he could tap into his abilities when necessary, “I wish I didn't have to worry.”

“I'll have Cassandra with me." Evelyn leaned up on her tiptoes and tousled his hair. She left the towel over his head, and Cullen dragged it off to keep his eyes on her. Evelyn was a few steps away, back to him, rummaging around on a small table. Cullen wrapped the towel around his waist and removed the space she had put between them. There would be more than enough distance between them soon enough. That fact made him tense again.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Evelyn turned around, but avoided his gaze for a bit as she coated her hands with his pomade. When her eyes moved upward to meet his, he found them tight with apprehension.

“If I were possessed she wouldn’t hesitate," Evelyn said quietly. As logical as it was, it was just one more thing to reinforce his concerns. Cullen already dreaded the fact Evelyn would yet again have to personally lance the defenses all because there were bloody rifts all over the Maker forsaken fortress.

He sighed out some of the stress built up within him when she leaned up to card her fingers through his hair, styling it for him.

“It’s a worst-case scenario,” she continued at his silence. "These things the Venatori have convinced the Wardens to do… I just fear it's only a matter of time before they can figure out a way to force something upon the unwilling."

“Do you think I’d be able to do the same in Cassandra's place?” he heard himself ask. Cullen honestly didn't know.

Evelyn wiped off her hands on the towel she unraveled from herself then reached up to lovingly palm at his face. “You love me too much to hesitate.”

Cullen’s chest tightened so fiercely it was suddenly hard to breathe. She was right, that much was certain. He loved her beyond reason. To allow such perfection to corrupt beyond recognition would be a sin. He managed to nod in agreement before pulling her close, clutching to her - to what he could lose in ways more horrific and painful than death alone.

Those soldiers were still just outside the entrance, but Cullen didn't care. He had to feel her. A taste to get him by. Her legs wrapped around his hips as he lifted her, trapping the linen between them which irritated him, but her hands were already on him, distracting him. She cupped his cheek, rasping her soft skin against his whiskers. There was enough forethought left in his mind to dust any remaining sand off her feet and his before stepping back onto the canvas. By the time he reached the sleeping pallet her hands had traveled along his shoulders and were now tracing his collarbone.

He set her down into the makeshift bed, and Evelyn pulled away. His chest seemed to hollow out as he dropped to his knees in the middle, but almost instantly her hands were on him smoothing across the span of his chest. Evelyn removed the towel from his waist and threw it aside before encouraging him to lean back into the pillows.

The last time they came together his touch had been light. This time hers was firm and present - she was there, she was his, and she would never leave him. Cullen didn't realize how tightly he was holding onto everything until he began to relax as Evelyn sought out scars and dips in his muscles, tracing out the shape of his body.

When Evelyn came across the skin scarred by magic, twisted and red, just above his hip, her aura energized, overwhelming him with its harmonious feel. Cullen knew she would never hurt him and he pulled her in for a kiss. Her hand was ice, a balm on his fevered skin. A moment later, static whispered across his flesh like little fingers tracing his skin lovingly, making the little hairs stand on end.

He allowed Silence settled over her then. Just heavy enough to pull at her mana, but not siphon it away. They were speaking to each other without using words or even the connection, and Cullen never thought Evelyn could love that piece of him, the Templar that did more harm than good by standing by and doing nothing, but she did. There was a sense of peace he gained in that, but the fact she had been using magic around him more and more frequently without a sliver of apprehension in her eyes took his breath away.

When he felt that tug in his chest, Cullen tried to pull her into him. When she resisted, he allowed Silence to settle over her a little more. Her aura dimmed under his overwhelming presence, but he could still feel it. Evelyn pulled in a deep, even breath and smiled.

“I can think of worse things than being at your mercy.”

He laughed then. The sound there then gone in a flash, because she took him in hand to line him up. Only when her lungs expanded forcefully to draw in another deep, intentional breath did Cullen realize he was allowing Silence to settle too heavily upon her. He was confident it wouldn't alter the connection in any way, and part of him wondered if it would feel any different, but now was not the time.

The second it lifted that tingling was back, radiating out from her hand against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, caging her against him as she sank down. Evelyn cradled his head as he shuddered through the duration of her descent. He filled her completely; the contact all-encompassing and overwhelming. The tension was back then, and Cullen struggled to balance everything. He focused on the heat wrapped around him to lessen the intensity of the connection flaring open. Her love, trust, and fear overwhelming his own, but it didn't matter because it was raw and real and _living._

Her touches resumed, and soon she brought him back to her, his muscles laxing as she did. Only then did she move, rising off him and falling back down in a drawn-out, torturous fashion. Evelyn kissed his temple before lightly tugging his hair. His eyes fluttered open and were met with those deep green eyes he called home.

“I love you just as much."

He knew she did. He could _feel_ it; a mirror image of his own. How Cullen ever deserved such a thing was beyond him.

Cullen mumbled an agreement, so low and breathy he wasn't even sure he made words, but it didn't matter. The pace Evelyn had set was nowhere near enough. Digging his fingers into the round of her ass, he shifted. With a gasp, her legs wrapped around him to keep them together as Cullen laid her down. He wanted to show her how he felt. Nothing would _ever_ change.

Her breaths became quick and uneven, long before he moved. He could feel some internal struggle begin to play out, but he couldn’t quite grasp if it was coming from him or her or both of them. Evelyn tugged on his hair again, but Cullen didn't wish to talk. He wanted her to feel him, in every way, in the very soul he longed to heal and make whole. Had it already happened, neither would have to fear possession. Her magic would be limitless. It would make the upcoming trial less daunting.

He pulled his hips back, and her head fell aside with a moan. Deep, powerful thrusts that resonated through his whole body. Like the last time they came together, Cullen needed to be in control. Draw this out. Who knew if it would ever happen again?

A myriad of confused emotions blurred across his peripheral like the fanning of a book's pages.

“Don't.” Her voice broke. “No goodb-”

He kissed her to shut her up and drove into her. Desperate to get closer, to _force_ them together. Evelyn quaked under him, fluttering around him.

"I'm-" A sudden moan stole her words away.

"I know," he said. Abandoning his steady, predictable rhythm, Cullen snapped his hips forward to steal another sound of pleasure from her throat. She was so close, pushing him closer to the edge, feeding off each other's sensations and pleasure.

"I'm going to breathe into it again," Evelyn managed between pants, struggling to hold back. Her nails dug into his flesh, eyes never leaving the depths of his. "I need to know you're safe."

His lips crashed down on hers as Cullen lost himself completely. They inched up in the nest of blankets and pillows with each determined jerk of his hips. A sensation similar to her barrier washed over him, comforting and warm, bloomed from the inside out. His heart throbbed in his chest, suddenly feeling as if it was about to burst. Some force, paramount and all-consuming, swept him away, taking him right to the edge of some precipice before it vanished with a strangled cry of his name. Her arrival pulling him back and taking him with her.

His heart rate was erratic. He trembled almost uncontrollably from the intensity of it all. Evelyn’s breathing was shallow and concerning, but still, she cooed and petted worried for him too. Cullen kissed her temple and held her close. He wished to do more, but until he regained control over his body, there was little he could offer.

Eventually, he exhaled a steady, long-held breath and found the strength to lift his head. She pushed back a stray curl before cupping his cheeks. After a moment more, Evelyn leaned up, and with only the slightest bit of hesitation, pressed her mouth against his. One hand moved to his nape and the other wrapped around him to rest between his shoulder blades.

The kiss was soft, and heavy. Her touch light; lips gliding effortlessly against his, but there was an intensity to it Cullen didn't know if he could pull away from - if he wanted to pull away from. Before he knew what he was doing, Cullen ground into her and Evelyn moaned, clenching tight. Her nails scratched across his back and scalp, and Evelyn broke away from the kiss with a serrated inhale.

“Please," she begged in a barely audible whisper.

Cullen rested his forehead on hers. He withdrew a little; pressed back in, and he could feel that force fast approaching. Right then, Cullen knew she would have bonded them had she not came, and a large part of him needed to reach back out and claim her, make her his. He needed her more than anything, but he didn't want her to make a life-altering decision on a whim. This couldn't happen because of the siege or the fear itching at the back of their minds.

He couldn't survive it if she regretted it later.

_Nothing rash._

When his hips pulled back again, Evelyn whimpered as he slid from her body, but she wasn't angry or sad. She didn't wish to curse him or yell. She understood.

“I love you; you know that right?”

Evelyn nodded and smiled; sad, but trying. She understood Cullen couldn't make love to her and deny her and didn't think him weak or cruel.

“I love you too.”

Cullen brushed his lips across hers before pushing himself off her. Evelyn didn't hesitate to follow after him, draping herself over him. Her head rested on his shoulder; the coin, over his heart. Cullen fiddled with the chain.

Nothing was said.

Only a gentle touch for the scars that hate and fear gave her.


	21. Marked

He couldn’t see. Cullen blinked. Then blinked again.

Something trickled down his cheek. An unsteady step forward to hold himself up on the crenelation.

_ Breathe. _

He sucked in a ragged breath. It helped, but not enough. He tried again.

The burning stopped, but then he could feel the  _ chasm  _ in his chest even more.

_ Pull yourself together. _

Cullen forced himself to think, to move, to speak, to keep their forces structured and safe and in control.

Seconds. Minutes. Hours. _ Days. _

He would spend an eternity trying to staunch the continuous stream of demons pouring through the gateway between worlds. Why Evelyn left the massive rift in the center of the complex open was a complete mystery. To contain it, lines of defense rippled out in concentric circles. Nothing escaped the net he had cast, and yet without the Evelyn, there was no healing the tear before him nor the wound in his soul. It was not unblemished and whole. Solas was wrong.

"He was right," Cole said, appearing from absolutely nowhere. Cullen choked out a laugh that bordered on a sob. "The lyrium," the spirit continued. "Its song revealed the truth and your soul has sought to become part of that something bigger since then."

_ Too late for that. _

"No. She found a way back, but fear stands in her way."

Cullen didn’t have time to dwell on his odd choice of words because, in the distance, the rift began to twist and spark - yet again. Another wave moved forward to relieve the weary and wounded. How much longer could he expect them to fight this never-ending battle? Morale was plummeting like the stones that gave way beneath her feet. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword. The Commander should join them. Their leader fighting beside, no matter how hopeless, always inspired, but when the rift began to intensify, he froze. 

The pulsating, twisting emerald light was blinding. The hum of its energy near deafening even at his range. His heart seized the moment it vanished, sealing with a temporary vacuum that ruffled the fur of his mantle and pulled a couple of curls forward into his face. The accompanying sigh loud enough to drown out the clash of metal and flesh rendered howls.

Then all was silent. Eerily silent.

It took him far too long to wrap his mind around the simple fact that Evelyn lived and he'd find her where the rift had been. Finally, his legs began to work - in overdrive. Cullen didn't want to risk alarming anyone, but he couldn't help himself. He ran, traveling down the battlements with Rylen and Harding on his heels. Luckily, he was moving in the same direction with the same sense of urgency as everyone else, eager to see their savior.

He arrived in time to witness her perfect composure crack.

“Where’s Hawke?” Varric demanded, jabbing his finger at her.

Evelyn’s marked hand flexed. She looked at Alistair, who abruptly turned away, and left her to face his ire alone.

“Where’s Hawke?!” Varric roared when she had taken too long to answer. Accusing her over and over and  _ over  _ again with each consecutive echo off the surrounding walls. Evelyn visibly flinched but masked it by taking a step back onto the raised platform where the rift had been. Then she admitted her guilt by addressing the crowd and not her friend.

“Hawke sacrificed her life to save us and strike a decisive blow against Corypheus,” the Inquisitor said in a loud authoritative voice.

Varric hung his head, slowly shaking it from side to side before lifting it to glare at her. For a long, painful moment they stared at one another before he wove his hand dismissively and stormed away. The Inquisitor’s words chased after him: “She gave her life not because she’d sworn an oath or been marked as special, but because someone had to do it.”

Instantly someone else was grabbing her attention. Some part of Cullen heard the large Warden, Evelyn and Alistair speak. He even registered the loud hissing and complaining in response to whatever the Inquisitor had said, but he didn't process any of it. He couldn't. Cullen never thought he'd see Evelyn again, but the longer he looked… 

Her marked hand was curled into a fist. Even from his distance, Cullen could see her trying to hold it still, refusing to absorb or discharge the increasing buildup. Something was wrong.

Very, _ very,  _ wrong.

He managed to tear his eyes away from her. The handful of times Cullen had been in the field with the Inquisitor, she and her team had shown absolutely no sign of being even remotely phased by the trials they endured. Cutting down demons and darkspawn and Red Templars and dragons, then instantly picking back up with their banter and easy conversation as if absolutely nothing had happened. But this time…

Cassandra was deathly pale; her brow was coated with a sheen of sweat, and she shifted her weight restlessly from leg to leg as if she couldn’t wait to turn and run from this very place. Dorian was visibly shaking, and Cullen managed to catch Alistair’s look of relief when he was dismissed. He completely ignored the other Wardens unless they walked at his pace, and though limping, he was moving with a sense of urgency as if fleeing the fortress as calmly as possible.

Evelyn watched Alistair a moment, her marked hand flexing couple of times. Fearing her composure was threatening to shatter, Cullen briskly descended the battlements. He strode across the courtyard with purpose, determined to shield and support her. Rylen and Harding were right on his heels.

"Sir," Rylen said under his breath.

"Yes?"

"We can handle things from here," Harding answered, equally quiet.

Cullen suppressed off the reflexive denial. Both officers had been groomed to lead. Rylen by him and Harding hand selected by Leliana to lead the Inquisitor’s support team. Decisions Evelyn vehemently supported, and she needed him considerably more than they did.

"Thank you,” Cullen said.

Though Evelyn didn't watch his approach, he could feel her eyes on him. Cullen didn’t hesitate to stand close, carefully positioning himself to place a supportive, well-hidden hand on the small of her back. The second it came into contact with the leather, cotton, and silk wrapped around her, she breathed out a quiet, even exhale. His thumb moved back and forth. 

_ I’m here. You’re safe. _

Cullen noticed Cassandra and Dorian were now flanked by Bull and a handful of Chargers. The dip of Evelyn's chin was near unnoticeable, but instantly Bull put an arm around Dorian, supporting the man who looked liable to shatter at any second. The group melted away unnoticed thanks to the moving speech that began to fall from her lips, drawing the everyone's attention to her.

Long after they were gone, Evelyn continued to speak, sacrificing the little strength she had left, giving it to her forces so they could face the aftermath. She asked them to care for the wounded, locate and identify the dead, so their sacrifice wouldn't be not forgotten, and even asked them to forgive those who seek and deserve it. When finished, the Inquisition's forces rallied, cheers and shouts filled the night.

Cullen moved his hand up to rest between her shoulder blades. She glanced his direction, and Cullen cocked his head toward the exit her companions had disappeared through a short while ago. Relief flashed in her eyes, and the crowd willingly parted to allow them through.

With each step taken away from those who believed her a miracle worker, untouchable and divine, Evelyn began to disintegrate. Her eyes were unfocused, vacant, reliving whatever horrors she faced. A fine tremor began to wave through her limbs. She stumbled, and Cullen gripped her arm firmly, snaking the other around her waist to help hold her up. A choked sob escaped her throat, tears began to make little rivulets on her dusty face.

Luckily, Adamant was a relatively small fortress. Its bulk rose up into the sky, not sprawled out along the sands, and once they were through the main gate, the Inquisitor’s tent quickly rose up only a short distance away. When Evelyn stumbled again, Cullen, not caring who saw, slipped her staff from its harness and cradled her against him, carrying her the remaining distance to the safe haven they would find under its canopy. Krem and Dalish respectfully averted their eyes and held the flap open so they could slip inside.

Evelyn now trembled uncontrollably. From terror, stress, and the void of adrenaline that had fueled her over the last several hours. She was covered in blood and ash, and Maker knew what else. Thankfully, someone had replaced the basins with a large tin tub and covered the exposed sand. Cullen would bet coin on Cole because it was not common knowledge that Evelyn felt an intense compulsion to scrub the experience from her skin after difficult missions and decisions.

Cullen made to set Evelyn down, but she clung to him. Setting her staff aside he shushed and whispered gentle words.  _ I’m here. I won’t leave you. We're safe. _ Eventually, she nodded against the fur and allowed him to release her, mechanically beginning to remove her armor. Cullen quickly discarded his own, stripping it almost carelessly in his haste. It’s condition and treatment the farthest thing from his mind. While he was otherwise occupied, Evelyn had only managed to get her boots, cowl, and one vambrace off.

Tears continued to stream from her eyes, and she remained passive as Cullen undressed her and searched for injuries. There were several alarmingly large, black bruises on her torso, but nothing was broken nor fractured that would that would require a healer. He plucked a healing draught from her belt. Once Evelyn drank it, the small gash on her cheek knit together. He was glad to see it wouldn't leave a scar. The last thing she needed was another reminder etched onto her flesh. Only when he went to remove her necklace, did Evelyn come suddenly to life. Her hand clamped around the coin and Cullen encouraged her to let go with a promise he would leave it be.

He coaxed her to the tub. The water was scalding hot thanks to a small fire glyph in the bottom corner. Cole obviously had help. Cullen suspected the Charger, Dalish, outside. The kind act went beyond merely being under her employ, and Cullen decided he would allow the Chargers to use a trebuchet to launch those ridiculous winged nugs Krem made, and whatever else they wanted, with no further argument.

Once inside, Evelyn drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Cullen rubbed a soothing hand along the length of her back. Eventually, her tears slowed, muscles relaxed, and after some time Evelyn fully immersed herself in the water. She stayed underneath a frightfully long time. One at a time, little bubbles drifted up, breaking soundlessly at the water’s surface. When she sat back up, Cullen handed over the soap she preferred and her familiar floral scent soon permeated the air.

Lily of the valley - beautiful, deadly, and according to legend, divine. Springing up from the blood shed by Archon Hessarian when he ended Andraste’s misery by putting a sword through her heart. Cullen doubted Evelyn would appreciate that aspect of it, but still, it was a beautiful flower to associate with this beautiful woman.

By the time Evelyn finished, she had scrubbed her skin red, but her eyes were dry. She toweled off on her own, bound her breasts, and silently tugged on the clothes Cullen handed over. The underclothes hers, the simple linen shirt his. Dressed, Evelyn immediately stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. She nuzzled against his bare chest, breathing deeply. 

“You're here,” Evelyn said with a firm, hoarse voice as if trying to convince herself it true.

“I’d be nowhere else," Cullen assured.

Her hold tightened, nails digging almost painfully into his back. "You are here," she repeated not holding back the accompanying sob. A renewed stream of tears began to fall, trailing warm down his chest.

Cullen wished the connection was still open; read what she was feeling so he better knew how to help her. He had never seen her so… broken. Evelyn didn't fall, she stumbled, and always caught herself. Not that Cullen didn't want to be the one to lift her up, she just didn't allow it, insisting on wearing the mask at all times just because Evelyn believed it expected of her.

What the masses would perceive as weakness was anything but. Once Evelyn remembered that she would begin to improve. The heart of the passage in her copy of  _ Tales of the Champion  _ had become apparent to Cullen long ago. Varric was reminding Evelyn she was retaining what she searched for so desperately in all the darkness - her humanity. It was what she struggled to strip from her reports, what drove her to write those little notes reminding herself good still existed in the world. It was what Cullen had struggled so long to remember himself, and it had taken Evelyn entering his life for him to remember -  _ Curly, it isn’t all bad  _ \- and eventually, Evelyn would remember that too.

Cullen lifted her to place her into the nest of pillows and blankets they had forced themselves from earlier that day. He pulled her close and mimicked her usual touches to soothe. Her aura slowly unwound. It had been so tight, he could barely detect it. His efforts must have been enough as eventually, the tears came to an end and after some time Evelyn fell asleep.

He was on the verge of falling asleep himself when Evelyn snapped upright with an earth-shattering scream. The mark flaring to life seemed to make it all worse. She threw it out before her, once again refusing to absorb or discharge the buildup. The accompanying vibration set Cullen further on edge.

He grabbed her; fisting one hand into her hair and locking his other arm around her torso to press her against him - firm and present. For one  _ horrifying _ second, Cullen believed he had been too rough when she cried out, but that vanished when she held him back just as fiercely. Tears instantly cascading down his shoulder.

A breeze blew in with Cassandra, her weapon was drawn. Cullen held up a hand, silently signaling everything was fine. Usually, he’d be embarrassed at being intruded upon in such an intimate setting, but all that mattered was Evelyn and her current state. He had never heard her make a sound like that, and it had honestly terrified him.

The Seeker looked dead on her feet. Her mouth opened like she wanted to say something, but when Evelyn choked back another sob, Cassandra left without a word. Cullen doubted anyone who was at the Inquisitor's side was having an easy night.

"What can I do to help?" he asked, running a soothing hand along the length of her back. 

"You are helping," Evelyn managed. "You're here."

His hold loosened a little, but he kept petting her wavy locks. “Is your hand okay?”

“No.” Her voice came out watery and thick. Her quick, shallow breaths continued to ghost across his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. “I don’t trust it right now. “

"Talk to me," he said, loosening his hold a little more. Cullen hoped she would open up, let him help her if possible.

“I… um,” She paused to clear her throat. “I can feel the Veil with it. I can usually map out where rifts will be long before we lay eyes on them and I’ve suspected for some time now that I could tear it open, and when we were-“ a renewed stream fell across his shoulder and his chest tightened at the recollection.

Cullen had been shaken to his very core by what he had felt -  _ experienced. _ It had been debilitating. He knew full well he was incapable of taking that away from her. The whole thing - watching the bridge to nowhere crumble beneath her feet, feeling her panicked terror, knowing she felt his heart break before it all went quiet -  was something else to haunt him at night. Cullen sighed heavily and petted her hair some more, hoping it helped on some level. 

Evelyn drew in a staggered inhale before continuing. “And when I close rifts, it feels like if I let my guard down, for even a second, something is going to drag me in and-“ she broke off one a choked sob, barely managing to continue in a halting, broken voice. “I saw it. It’s been in my mind and-“ she cut off when Cullen abruptly pulled back to look into her eyes, his hands framed her face.

They were red from all the crying but clear. Cullen could sense absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

“What do you mean?” His heart was hammering out of control at the just the thought. 

“Nothing like that.” She shook her head, and a little, watery laugh left her. “They assumed you all would kill me, and that would be the end of it, but when you all took me in, it sealed away my memories of the Conclave to keep me from ruining their plans, and-”

“What is ‘it’?” Cullen asked cautiously.

Her face scrunched up, trying to hold back the tears that still picked back up despite her efforts. “A Nightmare, and I left Hawke there with it, and it’s just  _ waiting _ on the other side. I could feel it watching me when I fell asleep.”

Evelyn could handle demons, so whatever Nightmare was… her reaction alone made a wave of gooseflesh ripple across his body. He felt a sense of dire urgency to get her out of there.

“Do you need to leave here?” he asked; voice tense, gravely serious. Evelyn nodded eagerly with the apparent relief in her eyes. “It’ll take some time if you want me to go with you,” Cullen stipulated with complete honesty. 

“I can’t leave you here,” Evelyn said and came close again. She wrapped back around him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He held her as if she were fragile, a precious item on the verge of breaking. “Then I’ll come with you,” he said, but Cullen couldn’t leave her just yet to set their departure in motion. He needed her, just as much as she needed him at that moment. “There for a little bit, I never thought I’d see you again."

“I’m sorry I did that to you."

Cullen hushed her, gently encouraging her to look at him. He wiped away her tears. “Don’t ever apologize for moving heaven and earth to keep yourself alive. I only regret you had to walk through the Void to find your way back to me.”

“It was worth it,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. 

It was unbelievable how irrevocable her words felt, but Cullen felt exactly the same. Everything he had endured was worth it, solely because in the end he was given this woman. He hated Evelyn was marked, just as Uldred had marked him, but Cullen would be there to keep her from falling into the abyss he had lost himself in for nearly a decade, festering in hate and fear; blaming others for the mistake of one.

Cullen cupped her cheek, making his movements slow and intentional. Her eyes fluttered shut with a shaky exhale. Then, with only the slightest bit of hesitation, did Cullen brush their lips together, just barely. 

“How long will it take you to be ready?” she murmured against his lips. Cullen could practically feel it. The connection humming between them as if determined to be pulled into their world.

“A few hours,” he managed.

She brushed their lips together again. Her slender hand moved to rest over his heart where it was slamming in his chest.

“You feel it?” He could hear her barely restrained shock. He wasn’t quite sure he believed it himself, but he’d know that sensation anywhere. He nodded before tasting her gently yet again.

“Not here,” he said.

Evelyn shook her head vehemently. “When we get back,” she promised and they sealed it with a kiss. Nothing hard or needy, not lacking passion or desire, but more like a confession. _I couldn’t do this without you._

“Will you be alright while I’m gone?” Cullen hated the idea of leaving her side, but if they wanted to get out of this place, it was necessary.

She forced a little, unsure smile. “I’ll manage.”

“Can I send anything in to eat or someone for company?”

“I could try to eat, but I’ll just work on my report. I’m sure the others are resting,” she said. Cullen imagined they were unless they the unlucky four who traveled physically through the Fade with her. Still, pointing that out wouldn't help.

“I’ll send a runner to let them know we're leaving and welcome them to join us.”

Evelyn slipped on a pair of leggings while Cullen got back into full armor. He took his time to watch her. Her motions were still a little jumpy and rigid, but her eyes were dry, and there was some color in her complexion. Overall, she looked like his Evelyn.

She tied back the tent entrance before offering a little, reserved smile and crawling back into the makeshift bed with some parchment and a pen. She sat there for a long time, not writing, just staring out at the night sky. When Cullen approached to say his temporary farewell, she sprung up to give him a kiss. 

Cullen cupped her cheek, searching for some sign that the pieces were cracking. Evelyn couldn’t hold it in, if she did, she would be lost. 

“Don’t strip it, Ev. Tell it how it was.”

She nodded, chewing on her lip. “I hate to ask, but could you tell Varric we're leaving?”

He did. It didn't help. 


	22. Permanency**

Cullen was glad to be back among the simple comforts the fortress offered, like hot meals and the absence of sand. Before doing anything else, he cleaned up, starting with a much-needed shave. Cullen didn’t mind facial hair, but currently, his beard rivaled Blackwall’s. Plus, it was reassuring when his hands were steady enough to allow him to do so, which was occurring more and more frequently. Now, there were hardly a handful of days in between shaves except for the past few weeks, but since leaving the cabin, life had been a blur. Shaving without a mirror was something Cullen dare not attempt until the tremors were gone entirely. He was confident that would happen in all due time.

Having an hour or so left before his debriefing, Cullen wandered over to see Leliana. She offered to have a dinner brought up, and he accepted. They ate and made small talk, nothing forced or heavy. Part of him wanted to bring up that terrible runner, but why ruin a good thing. The two of them butted heads more often than not, and the chance would come. When finished, Leliana handed over the pile of work that had gathered in his absence with a simple aside: "Have you read her report?”

Cullen felt himself blush, embarrassed at not having asked what exactly transpired nor made a point to read the ten-page report.

Leliana, not needing an answer, sighed and kicked her feet up onto the desk. “When will you learn?”

“You should have seen her afterward," he said. "I’m not sure I want to know what she had to go through to come back to us.”

Her eyes crinkled sadly. “Perhaps you’re right. Part of me wishes I hadn’t, that I'd left my curiosity alone. Now, I feel like I have to reopen her wounds to find my own peace.”

“If possible, give her time before you do,” he said.

Leliana tipped her chin, steel eyes softening as she turned her gaze toward the nearby window.

The library and rotunda were empty at the hour and surprisingly so was the Main Hall. He exited into the gardens, taking the long way back to his office, so he could pop into the Herald's Rest and get a decent bottle of wine to share with Evelyn. Upon returning to his office, Cullen was greeted with the beautiful sight of everyone ready and waiting - early. The quicker this was finished, the quicker he could see how she was managing since their arrival that afternoon. Cullen set down the bottle of wine down and took his place.

Fanning through the stack of work, Cullen was pleased to note that Leliana had organized the documents in order of importance. At the top, a preliminary reconnaissance request. He made a point to remind Harding her team would handle the task without her. Cullen did not overlook his intent to give Rylen some time off too. Having both gone above and beyond what was required and expected of them at Adamant, they deserved it and with the holiday almost upon them, it was a perfect time for it.

Cullen gave him a pointed look. "Rylen's _men_ will monitor the situation." A wry smile pulled at his tattoos as his first lieutenant snapped to attention.

"Yes ser, we'll begin preparations at once," the soldier answered before departing.

"In the meantime, we'll send soldiers to..." A brief pause hung in the air alongside her magic. Cullen looked up, and there she was, leaning against the wall half in shadow. The silver buckles on her coat glint in the low candlelight. Snowflakes slowly melted in her hair. The hand not wrapped around her waist hovered near her face where it partially covered her mouth. When their eyes locked, Evelyn bit back her smile, capturing that lip he wanted to capture himself; a heated blush further colored her wind-kissed cheeks.

"Assist with the relief effort," he finished. The authority was gone from his voice at just the sight of Evelyn. Drawn by some unseen, but not unknown force, Cullen leaned forward, bracing himself on the desk. There was no stopping his affectionate smile. "That will be all," he said, abruptly ending the meeting.

Cullen herded the officers out the door and exaggeratedly pushed it shut behind them. He leaned against the wood a moment, dipping his head between his arms to hide his profile while he gathered his courage. Despite the last time they came together and their vague agreement before they left the desert, Cullen wasn't entirely convinced Evelyn was ready.

"There's always something more, isn't there?" Cullen complained in an effort to keep things light.

"Wishing we were someplace else?"

Cullen laughed. Wasn't that the truth? He’d whisk her back to the lake in a heartbeat if possible. Winter or not.

"I barely found the time to get away before," he said, standing straight and sliding the deadbolt over. With great effort, he turned away from Evelyn. Cullen was incredibly nervous, but his voice thankfully remained steady. "This war won't last forever. When it started, I hadn't considered much beyond our survival. But things are different now."

She followed after him. "What do you mean?"  

Cullen steeled himself to face her, to meet those evergreen eyes knowing he would find doubt there. Doubt he encouraged by saying things were different, but it was entirely true. Everything changed when Cullen first laid eyes upon her. Changed again when she almost died, and again when they shared their first kiss. Each time they made love felt like the first, but different. Each time their souls met, they tangled tighter and tighter together, struggling to stay connected, only to again be torn apart.

It slowly shaped him into something new, like the waves crashing against the cliffs on the Storm Coast. Stronger because of it. Better because of her. That Cullen would have relapsed and brought about his end with that final failure was irrefutable. Everything was different, but one thing never changed. Cullen wanted Evelyn, wanted that something bigger, no more nor any less.

"I find myself wondering what will happen after. When this is over, I won't want to move on..." He smiled a little, gently running the back of his hand down her cheek to soothe away some of the doubt in her eyes. "Not from you." Evelyn looked at him quizzically causing him to stumble over his words as his courage crumbled. "But I don't know what you- that is, if you, ah..." Feeling his cheeks flame, Cullen quickly turned away and busied himself with cleaning up the papers. It all sounded so ridiculous out loud.

Evelyn stepped between him and the desk. "Cullen, do you really need to ask?" Her voice was teasing and perhaps a little chiding. She removed her jacket and let it slip through her fingers to the floor below.

His heart stumbled over itself in its effort to speed up. "I suppose not. I - " Cullen cut off when Evelyn put her weight on the desk. It wobbled and the bottle of wine he had hand-selected shattered against the floor. He blinked at it a moment. What a waste. It smelled perfect for what he had sought out for earlier that evening.

“Oh!” Evelyn bit her lip in an attempt to stifle her grin, but the deep blush that flared across her cheeks gave her involvement away. Sera's pranks were often poorly thought out and ended badly. Evelyn, however, knew how to execute hers to get under her victim's skin just enough to annoy them yet leave them slightly amused. Cullen was nothing but amused.

“I think you forgot something,” Cullen said, recalling the last time she sent a bottle sailing to the ground in his office.

“Fuck me,” she said, blush deepening.

“Gladly,” he smirked, shoving all the shit from his desk and encouraging her to lay along it. Settling on top of her, Cullen turned his head aside when she rose up to kiss him; smile broadening at her little, disappointed sound. He pressed his thigh firmly between her legs and began to work at her neck.

Panting something, Evelyn ground harder into his leg. The need between them harsh and demanding, Evelyn’s and his own. Already hard and wanting, he groaned, rocking roughly against her thigh; his gut forming into a tight coil too quickly, already lost from this alone.

Suddenly his plate jolted from a jarring blow, and Cullen pulled back in alarm.

"Clothes off," Evelyn demanded.

Skin. Contact. How had he forgotten?

Cullen sat up and pulled her with him. He yanked his gloves off as she began to push the ruff of fur from his shoulders, hindering his efforts at the clasps holding it in place. Frustrated, Cullen growled, and she allowed him to finish unwinding the damn thing himself so he could get it off. Evelyn tossed her belt aside at the same time he threw his coat at the nearby chair. It fell over. The split-second his hands were free, he pulled her shirt over her head.

He needed to taste her. Cullen tangled a hand in her hair to bare the long line of her neck. Her heartbeat fluttered frantically under a pulse point. He nuzzled it a moment before giving it a little bite, relishing in the strangled noise that reverberated against his tongue as he soothed the sting away.

He needed to touch her. His hands brushed over her breasts, still bound by her supporter; caressed the memorized curves of her body.

He needed to feel her. His hips rocking steadily, grinding _just right_ between the apex of her thighs.

 _Why isn’t she touching me?_ Cullen wanted, needed, her hands on him - giving and taking. As if reading his thoughts her hands fisted into his hair and roughly dragged his mouth to hers.

“Please,” Evelyn begged into the kiss. "Cullen, please."

A loud moan ripped from his chest when she finally touched him. Her hand was warm on his arm even through the thick cotton of his shirt. Metal ringing as it ricocheted off the desk and onto the floor dragged him back a little from the kiss that took everything up. Her hands scrabbled at the plate, blindly searching for the straps keeping it in place. Cullen tore the plate from his arms. A strangled _Maker_ slipping through his throat as her touch came all at once, running along every available inch uncovered. It was too much.

_Not enough._

He broke the hard kiss, needing more and not getting it fast enough. Cullen tried to focus on peeling the metal from his body and not on her shoving her pants down, taking that crimson piece of silk that lit his blood aflame at the mere sight of with them. Even as he tossed the breastplate aside, Cullen ripped Evelyn off her feet. The metal clanged against the stone and crunched glass.

From the battlements someone called out, concerned at the racket they were making.

The latch clicked.

The door cracked open.

"FUCK. OFF," he snarled as he dropped Evelyn back onto the desk unceremoniously.

The desk wobbled, and the door quickly slammed shut. Evelyn had her hand fisted in his shirt, drawing his mouth to hers, but she turned her head aside with a breathless laugh at the last second. Cullen breathed a small laugh of his own against her ear. Distantly the whole thing was amusing. The desk, the almost intrusion, that they were performing like lovesick adolescents fumbling awkwardly in their desperation.

"Now they’ll really talk," Evelyn said, smoothing her hands down his front. 

"I really don't care," he said, pulling off his shirt as she unbuckled his belt and unlaced his trousers. Cullen dug his fingers into her hips and positioned her on edge. There was no stopping the deep groan that rumbled out of him when she took him in hand to pump the entire length of him several times before drawing one leg up onto the desk and parting her folds with the head of his cock. Their foreheads bumped together, and his eyes squeezed shut.

“Just as long as you're mine," he whispered.

"I am," she murmured, and Cullen moaned loudly as he slid home.

Before he could move, think, or even breathe, the connection snapped open - loud and unfathomable. His heart palpitated, dangerously close to stopping altogether, but an ineffable warmth burgeoned in his chest, shielding him as he was propelled, fast and determined, over the precipice. Where _everything_ concentrated into a space the size of a pinprick on his peripheral and _stayed._

Cullen blinked. Then blinked again.

Her nails were painfully embedded into his back. He released a staggered exhale, and something close to a choked sob rent from Evelyn’s chest. He loosened his grip, worried he had hurt her.

“Yours,” she breathed, loosening her own hold.

He threaded his fingers into her hair and leaned forward, bracing himself against the desk. Despite what Cullen could feel, he needed to see she was okay. Matching his movements, Evelyn propped herself up with the opposite arm, and then Cullen saw it, that unmistakable light. His home, his everything. Safe, whole, and-

“Mine,” he said, and thrust deeper into her.

Without the connection screaming in his ear, everything else came in vivid sharp. The way she peppered kisses along his neck and shoulder, between moans and soft gasps of his name. The linen from her supporter brushing across his chest. How she clenched around him when her name slipped from his throat, or his stubble scratched across her skin. The faint taste of mint as their tongues twisted together. The sweet and floral scent of her hair, wafting in waves as it swayed with their movements.

What else had he missed?

Cullen shifted a fraction, and her little bundle of nerves brushed against him when he rolled his hips into her. Her back arched, pressing closer.

“Always,” she promised.

Their coupling became urgent as his hips snapped forward harder and more insistent. The sight of Evelyn flushed and grinding against him just as fervently, would be his undoing. Cullen needed to see her come before he broke apart against her. He held it back. Not too much longer. Just on the outskirts of his awareness, he knew it was almost over.

Cullen angled his hips and drove into her. Her hand gripped the back of his neck, and Evelyn came breathless shout of his name. Her eyes watering and squeezing shut as she rode it out against him. The sensation of her arrival overcoming him and taking him with her.

She held onto him, as he braced himself on the desk and buried his face into the crook of her neck. Her heart raced against his cheek, but Evelyn continued to pet his hair and skin, until eventually, Cullen managed to pull back to meet her gaze. And for the first time, he allowed himself to go beyond wondering and began to dream what that future might entail. A ring and a promise - letting the world know she was his. A quiet life in their quaint little cabin. _Children._ Children he would never let leave his side whether they wielded magic or nullified it, they'd teach them never to stand by and do nothing. Cullen saw it there in the depths of her eyes, Evelyn dreamed of it too.

Cullen smiled a little and leaned in. Their mouths slid lazily together. When it ended he stayed close, running the side of his nose along hers. Out of habit preparing himself, but when he pulled from her body there was no hollow sensation in his chest weighing him down, and despite the loss of her warmth, Cullen remained whole and satisfied and was positively _elated_ because of it. He tugged up his trousers.

"If I could only put myself together so easily.”

Confused, Cullen looked at her. Actually looked.

Her hair was an absolute mess. Her supporter was skewed, and half of a nipple popped out the top. And to top it all off, Evelyn still had one boot on, and her bottoms were just hanging off her leg at the knee. Cullen didn't know if he wanted to laugh or help her compose herself or take it all off.

He chose the last option.

Abandoning his belt, he tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Evelyn squealed loudly, and he tugged off her remaining boot even as she giggled and kicked her legs just to make it difficult.

"Cullen - Stanton - Rutherford! Put me down!" she demanded, unable to keep the laughter from her voice.

"I think not.” He peeled her leggings off and slipped her silky underclothes into his pocket and Evelyn smacked his ass with a startled laugh. His hand came up and halfheartedly smacked hers in return, generating more sound than sting. "You're stuck with me now."

Evelyn braced herself with both hands on the small of his back as he began to ascend the ladder. "And I thank the Maker for that."

His heart swelled, and at the top of the ladder Cullen set her down. He was glad Evelyn had insisted on preserving this space. It was warm and dry and precisely what they needed at the moment. She moved away to kneel on the bed and beckoned for him.

"So do I," Cullen said, finally finding the ability to stop staring and pull himself into the room to join her.

Evelyn smoothed her hands across his abdomen, chuckling a little when she ran her fingers over a particularly sensitive spot on the inside of his hip. She looked up at him, biting at her smile. The sudden color on her cheeks telling him it was accidental. He readjusted the thin chain, so the clasp no longer stuck in the pendant affixed to his coin, skewing it. She lifted her arms when his hands dropped to her supporter to make removing the strapless band easier. Cullen toed his boots off. Her hands, steady and sure, unlaced him once again. He kicked his bottoms and socks aside and crawled into bed with her.

Tender touches and wandering hands. Exploring the little details they had overlooked with the temptation of permanency hovering above them. On Evelyn's tricep, a small crescent birthmark. A dark freckle a few inches from her navel. Soft kisses for the marks he left upon her. It had been too much, but it was no excuse. She murmured comforting words, easing him back to recline against the pillows.

Straddling his thighs, Evelyn ran her nails lightly through his chest hair, followed by her tongue. She kissed every millimeter of the thick scar carved across his chest before taking him into her heat. Their joining no less intense, perhaps more so without the distraction. She was always so _warm._ Her touch seared across his skin, igniting his very blood.

It was slower this time. Quiet. Whispered words meant for only each other. A slow burn. Starting loose and mild, until Cullen felt like he would immolate from the inside out, holding her as close as possible. He had her.

All of her.

And still, Cullen didn't know if that would be enough even as he watched a few tears roll from her eyes as she came. Her head tipped forward, and her lips brushed against his temple, and he shuddered in her arms.

His soul was sated, but he wasn't; those dreams becoming his something bigger he longed to be a part of.


	23. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> INTERLUDE PT.1

Evelyn was sore. She positively ached - in the  _ best _ way.

She stretched like a cat, taking inventory of the bites and bruises. Already knowing which ones were the worst from the way Cullen had furrowed his brow and brushed his lips across them. They would heal and until then be hidden away under her wardrobe. It had been too much. She had expected intensity on some level, but not to the extreme they endured. 

The longer time dragged on without sealing it, the stronger it became on its own as if their souls were demanding to be acknowledged. Their desire to become one paramount and the lack of action on her part caused them to remind her in increasingly exponential increments that it was not meant to be ignored. Continually dragging her attention to him in the Fade, burgeoning in her chest at the mere sight of him. Amplifying his sincerity and love and  _ everything  _ until she could no longer stand the idea of not giving herself to him for eternity. That she almost-

Her heart began to race. 

_ I'm safe. _

_ Whole. _

She desperately grabbed hold of the sensation of peace buried deep in her very core. Something she never realized was missing. Making the second time they came together last night feel like the absolute first. Overwhelming in itself because of it.

Evelyn glanced over, glad Cullen was still sleeping. He didn't need to feel-

She swallowed hard, focusing on him. 

He always woke before her, usually working by the time she pried her eyes open, but undoubtedly Adamant was strenuous on him, and she had forced them to leave. Making others pick up the pieces. Something else to weigh her down. She should have stayed. Done more. Not allowed-

Again, something she wasn’t ready to examine quite yet begun to surface from the depths of her mind. It was close. Too close. She could feel it reach for her. It was terrifying and soul-crushing and-

She was warm. 

_ Hot. _

Evelyn threw the blankets off and bolted out of bed. The claws lifted the second her feet hit the cold stone. 

A light dusting of snow had gathered in the corner of his room, sparkling in the early morning light. After a few minutes, the suffocating heat subsided, but Evelyn was still warm. She shouldn't be standing in an open room, in winter, naked and be  _ warm.  _ Perhaps it was the bond. 

She glanced at Cullen. He had rolled over onto his back, lips parted a little, snoring softly. Dust motes lit up in the air around him like magic. He was every bit her golden lion. Strong. Protective.  _ Fierce _ in his anger and his love. 

Whatever was threatening to drag her under dematerialized as she watched him. Soon her hands no longer shook, and the mage was able to resurrect the barrier before slipping back into her clothes. 

After some time, a door creaked open downstairs. At the hour it was probably a runner dropping off the Commander’s morning run. Her suspicions confirmed when the individual exited within a few moments. The door quietly clicking shut behind them. She was glad they had forced themselves from bed the night before to clean up.

They hardly ever had relations in his quarters. Too accessible. Made all the more apparent by the poor soldier, who in all good intentions, almost wandered in. Just the memory had heat flaring across her cheeks. Evelyn would have  _ died _ from embarrassment had Cullen not scared the man away. Lax modesty was one thing, and being claimed, taken, and broken apart by her Commander was something completely different.

Her heart rate calmed as she dressed. Finished, she combed her fingers through her hair before plaiting it, pinning the fishtail braid into a bun just off center. Simple and elegant, perfect for a long day of meetings. 

Evelyn was lacing up her last boot when Cullen began to stir. His face creased in pain and murmured words passed through his lips. Concerned, Evelyn leaned over him to comfort him, try to chase whatever haunted him away from where she sat. Cullen suddenly tensed, snapping awake with a breathless plea. 

_ "Leave me!” _

Evelyn flinched back as did Cullen. His eyes were wild, darting around the room. Scanning the entrances for whatever threat had followed him from his nightmare. His breathing came in harsh pants. Cullen squeezed his eyes shut and dropped back against the pillows with a loud sigh. 

She carded her fingers through his curls. The motion soothing her already tattered nerves and hopefully helping him too. "Bad dreams?"

Cullen blinked hard, then stared at the ceiling a moment. Then he swallowed down whatever stuck in his throat. "They usually are. Without the lyrium, they're worse." Cullen blinked again and pushed himself up on a forearm. His other hand came up to cup her cheek. Evelyn leaned into his touch. "I didn't mean to worry you,” he said quietly, though the concern was thick in his voice.

She ran her fingers through his hair again and cupped his cheek in return. Hating the demons that haunted him still. She could sense them digging into his mind even as she gazed into those clear, beautiful golden eyes. Evelyn wanted to say something witty and dismissive.  _ Despite the dreams is it still a good morning? _ But what came out was: "You can let me worry about you a little.”

Cullen huffed a little laugh. His smile was fond and crooked, chasing away the tendrils reaching up to drag her under. 

“Alright," he drawled with mock reluctance and pulled Evelyn close. Her hand fell to the scar on his chest when their foreheads pressed together. Cullen took a deep breath. "You are... I have never felt anything like this,” he whispered.

Neither had she. Whole and safe and  _ his. _ That ache in her chest was gone. Filled with a comforting reassurance that she would never be alone. Evelyn belonged to someone. Not just someone but  _ Cullen. _ The soul that could have embraced his fear of magic and turned his back on her. Evelyn sent up a silent _ thank you  _ to the Maker for the millionth time and brushed her lips against his. 

"I love you. You know that, right?"

He smirked and pulled her close again. "I love you too,” he murmured against her lips.

When Evelyn pulled back, Cullen gazed into her eyes for several long, quiet moments. Whatever having chased him from dreams forgotten as he searched the depths of her soul. The pinpoint concentration on the bond pushed her right up to the edge. 

She felt cornered. 

Exposed. 

Barely suppressing the swelling panic down by slipping under the mask for the sake of self-preservation. 

Cullen eventually nodded and Evelyn dropped a chaste kiss, right on the scar bisecting his upper lip, and left.

One last glimpse to get her by.

Cullen fell back into the pillows, stuffing his hands under the one supporting his head. The corner of his mouth curled up into a little smile. 

Then she slid down into the darkness. 


	24. The Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> INTERLUDE PT.2

The Inquisitor, at Josephine’s persuasion, decided upon the Antivan way of celebrating Satinalia and mandated a week of off. The functions around Skyhold had ground to a halt. There were minimal staff and patrols, and they paid out extra incentives to encourage people to sign up for shifts. It left the Commander with an arsenal of shit to do which suited him perfectly fine. It was a welcome distraction that helped him manage.

Until night fell.

His loft was cold without her. No matter how many quilts and furs he piled on top of himself, he was  _ cold. _ If he would only take the time to track down where he lost the flint, he could have a fire, but something was depressing about the fact it wouldn't be feeding off her magic. Cullen had snapped awake from a strangely intense nightmare a few nights prior, and much to his alarm dispelled the barrier and fire almost reactively which made it all worse. An unexpected taste of his past life mixed in with his present. One he didn’t even fully understand.

He couldn’t bring himself to face that dark, cold room yet. Cullen needed her. He missed her. But for whatever reason, Cullen couldn’t face her either. So he  _ worked. _ Around the ninth hour, someone beat out a lively rhythm against his door. 

“Go. Away.”

“You know...” Dorian drawled from outside; voice muffled from the wood and stone between them. “I haven't asked for my boon yet...”

“Maker’s breath,” he grumbled under his breath, and when Dorian started his knocking anew, Cullen snapped.  _ "FINE!” _ Anything to keep Sera out of his office. He released the deadbolt and returned to his desk without opening the door.

Undeterred, Dorian let himself in with all his usual swagger. “What a warm welcome,” he mused, swinging his cloak off with a flourish. He whipped it once to throw the snow off and hung it on one of the pegs by the door.

The Commander wasn’t in the mood. “Do you need something?” he ground out, tapping the pen impatiently against a scrap piece of parchment. 

“I can’t, just, visit my friend?” Dorian tsked. “With all the masks and celebrations you’ve been scarce. I know how overwhelming it can all be.” He smiled, matching the good humor of his tone, but his eyes were only concerned.

The sudden heat on his cheeks mortified Cullen. A blush so hot it felt like he would melt right through the floor.

“Right,” he muttered. 

There was a large part of him that wanted to talk about everything. Work out the kinks in his mind before facing Evelyn. It felt like there was someone else in his head. Which was insane. The bond was there, but if he paid it no mind, it wasn’t. But the second he thought about it, Cullen couldn’t help but pay attention to it, confusing his feelings and thoughts. Was he upset? Was she? It didn’t help that it seemed to work like a compass too. When did she get back? Why she leave Skyhold in the first place? Is that why he or she or both were worried? He couldn’t figure out how to handle it.

He was deteriorating  _ fast _ because of it, and Cullen wasn’t sure how to stop it. His head pounded consistently. The twisted nightmares were new yet familiar, leaving him unsure if they were entirely his or if his mind was feeding off Evelyn even in sleep.

“Cullen,” Dorian encouraged quietly.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and fell back in the chair. Out of everyone, Cullen supposed, Dorian would understand. 

“I feel like I’m going mad,” he admitted, voice husky with emotion. He let out a heavy breath and dropped his arm, meeting Dorian’s gaze. “It’s all... tangled and confused. I can’t sort it out.” Cullen gestured vaguely toward the mess in his skull. “I don’t know what I feel.”

Dorian's eyes shone with empathy. “My friend, the only way you are going to figure that out is through her.” 

Cullen sighed. He subconsciously knew that would be the answer. 

“We’ll start with something simple,” Dorian prompted. 

Not trusting himself to speak Cullen only nodded. 

“It’s the last day of celebrations,” Dorian threw his arms out with enthusiasm, “and the Lady Ambassador has requested an evening with the Inner Circle to wrap things up. You included,” Dorian pointed for emphasis. "Though I don’t understand why," he added under his breath. 

Cullen cracked a smile despite himself. Considering his dark mindset, he felt a hint of joy at the unexpected visit from his most unlikely of friends. 

“Come or don't, it matters naught to me," Dorian shrugged and plucked his cloak from the peg.

“I do hope you’re nicer to Bull than that,” Cullen quipped, borderline surprised by his own vulgarity.

Dorian barked a laugh. “A rude joke? From you? Happy Satinalia to me.” He waggled his eyebrows and Cullen pushed out of the chair to tag along. 

Perhaps he just needed context to figure out what was his and hers. He already felt a little lighter at the brief exchange. 


	25. The Trap

Cullen took in the room as he entered. The large banquet table usually dominating the space was gone and in its place a small intimate setting. Two small tables were shoved together, and ringed by random members of the Inner Circle who all greeted him warmly, but no Evelyn. Cullen was pleased to note he felt equally anxious and relieved by that fact. The second thing he noticed was the makeshift bar on said banquet table which was shoved off to the side. There was a cask, an array of liquors and wines, glassware and an assortment of foods ranging from tea sandwiches to tiny cakes. It seemed like an awful amount of trouble to go through at such a late hour.

“Why aren't we at the Herald’s Rest?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures."

Cullen felt his brow dip down. “I don't follow you.”

“You'll see soon enough,” Dorian said, frowning. Difficult as it seemed for a moment, he quikcly slipped flawlessly back beneath his mask. “Grab a drink,” he continued cheerily, “it'll take the sting out of losing.”

Cullen obliged if for no other reason than to take the edge off his anxiety, but his hand hesitated on the spigot; noticing last minute that it was one of the Chargers’ casks.

“Don’t worry,” rumbled Bull, eying him thoughtfully. “It’s not Maraas-lok.”

“If it were we’d all be like our gracious ruler,” Dorian assured taking a seat by Cassandra.

“Sera’s here?”

Blackwall laughed. It was hoarse from disuse but hearty and alive. “Under the table, unconscious from her cups, but present and accounted for."

Perhaps, this venture wouldn’t be too terrible then. Sera had been wreaking havoc all over Skyhold since they crowned her ruler for the day. Cullen took a seat by the Warden. The Warden raised his tankard and dipped his chin. He returned the silent greeting, and they both took a deep pull. Varric’s exasperated rasp then drew Cullen’s attention to the door.

“There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Did you have to send that asinine runner?” Evelyn sounded annoyed, and Cullen's heart began to pound upon hearing her voice in any capacity.

“Slim pickings tonight,” Varric said, shrugging her complaint off. “You’re just in time; we almost had to start without you.”

“What, exactly, were you starting without me, now?”

Cullen tried to scoot back and lay eyes on her, eager to sort everything out, but the simple wooden chair was not sturdy enough for his weight nor the way he shoved back against it. It creaked loudly and wobbled alarmingly. He lifted his tankard into the air in an attempt to prevent ale from spilling everywhere.

Dorian chuffed a laugh and quickly brought his hand up. His fingers smoothed along his mustache in means to mask the quirk of his lip. Cullen glared at him. His eyes sparkled gleefully. _What?_ They said.

“I found her!” Varric announced to the room. “Ruffles, deal her in!”

“I do hope I recall the rules. It’s been ages since I’ve played a game of Wicked Grace!” Her supposed ignorance would not fool Cullen. Masks and misdirection were her forte. Josephine could converse politely, and with every well-placed word, cut far deeper than any sword ever could. All while smiling sweetly.

Varric pulled out the chair on Cullen’s right. “Take a seat.” He gestured exaggeratedly at its vacancy.

Cullen could not help the feeling of disappointment that popped up when Evelyn bypassed the dwarf and walked entirely around the table to the empty seat by the Lady Ambassador. Varric drummed his fingers against the wood for a second before taking the chair for himself. The following silence was thick and uncomfortable.

Bull, in his infinite grace, slammed his tankard against the table, causing the group to jump in surprise. “Are we playing cards or what?!”

Everyone shuffled through their cards at once and began to ask random questions. Varric did his best to answer patiently and with his usual good humor. But the way the group snapped back into the room from wherever they had mentally gone left Cullen with the feeling that he had walked into some sort of trap. He stood then, chair scraping against the stone floor as he carefully pushed it back.

“You seem to have enough people. I have a thousand things to do-" The sharp stab of pain was near crippling. Luckily, his weight was braced on the table when his knees tried to give out. His eyes snapped to where it came from.

Evelyn looked so … empty and withdrawn into herself. Her eyes were blank, void of that light. Posture rigid, tense, as if cornered and planning her escape. One hand was caught up in her scarf (he was sad to see it wasn’t the one made from his coat) and the other hung loosely onto the table’s edge.

The trap wasn't for him. It was for her. His gaze lingered on her even as Dorian spoke.

"Losing money can be both relaxing and habit forming. Give it a try.” Though his tone was light and carefree, Cullen could hear the underlying request loud and clear.

Cullen dropped back down into the chair. The cards came up, but he couldn't pull his eyes from her. Cullen was suddenly hyper-aware of the bond, of what was his and hers. He searched for a glimmer of light underneath the swell of dark emotion.

Varric nudged him and Cullen tore his eyes from Evelyn. "Curly, if any man in history ever needed a hobby, it’s you." The dwarf winked and raised his mug. Cullen managed a half-hearted glare.

"Dealer starts!" Josephine began cheerily. She started running her fingers over the precise stacks of coin before her. "Oooo... I believe I’ll start at three coppers!" The Lady Ambassador plucked them from her leftmost stack but then her face scrunched up in thought. "Do you think that’s too daring? Maybe I’ll make it one. No! Boldness!” She said, lightly touching Evelyn on the arm.

She blinked, coming into the room, and looked to where the touch had landed.

“Three it is!” Josephine decided.

Bull spat a disgusted sound that rivaled Cassandra’s best. “Seriously? Who starts at three coppers? Silver, or go home!”

“Sounds good, I’m in,” Blackwell interjected.

“The bolder, the better, right?” Dorian put in meaningfully.

At that Evelyn’s eyes slowly lifted from her arm to meet his. Dorian smiled a little. Soft and heartbreakingly sad. Concern shining from the grey-blue sea of his eyes.

“I’m in,” he said, coins scraping against the wood as they were pushed forward.

“Me too." Varric tossed his coin in the center, drawing her eyes to him. “Well, are you in?”

Everyone was looking at Evelyn, who glanced at the cards before her, still face down, then around the table. She skipped over Cullen but lingered a moment on everyone else. She shifted her weight, and for a moment, it looked as if she was going to push away from the table and escape the net her friends had cast, but then her eyes focused on Varric again and brightened.

“I'm a little rusty,” Evelyn said cautiously, lifting the stack of cards to rest on their edge where she could only see the top one.

Varric’s eyes dropped to his cards with a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry Feathers,” he rasped, shuffling the cards in his hands without really looking at them. “You’ll pick it back up in no time,” he added meeting her gaze again.

Something wordless passed between them, and Evelyn smiled a little, her eyes crinkling around the corners. The guilt Cullen felt lessened as he was left with mainly his own. He was continuously amazed how Evelyn and her companions held entire conversations saying one thing but conveying something completely different. Then Evelyn dug around in the little satchel on her hip.

“Oh, wonderful!” Josephine said, touching her on the arm again. “I’m glad you’re joining us, Evelyn.”

This time she met her gaze and Evelyn’s smile grew a little. Fragile, but honest. “I don’t have much coin on me,” she apologized tossing three coppers into the pile. Cullen patted his purse, noticing he too was unprepared for this sort of activity. There wasn’t much reason for him to carry coin.

“So as much as I’d like to start with silver,” she continued, glancing at Bull. He cocked his head with the equivalent of a one-eyed wink. “I’ll need to restrain myself if I’m to last longer than a few hands.”

Varric lifted his mug towards her. “You’re never more alive than when you lose your pants, my friend.”

That mischievous twinkle sparked back to life in the depths of her dark verdant eyes. “Now Varric, I’ll only lose my pants if you lose your shirt.” The dwarf sputtered into his tankard, and the table laughed, except for Cole, and himself, of course. Varric set the mug down and wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Feathers, stop looking at my chest. My eyes are up here.” He pointed at his eyes with two fingers from one hand.

“But the chest hair…”

Varric rested an arm along the table, the other propped up on his elbow. His fingers stroked his chin thoughtfully. “If you want,” he said, splaying his hand out in offering. “I'll let you run your fingers through it.”

"Your chest hair? My fingers? Oh, Varric, stop!” She waved her hand at him.

Cullen was unable to stop the bolt of jealousy that coursed through him at her easy banter and flirting when she wouldn't even look at him. He rummaged around in his purse and threw the coppers in. His hand was shit, but Cullen would stay and throw away his coin, for her. When he looked up their eyes locked. His heart lurched to a complete stop. There was no light there, and the small smile upon her lips was not for him. The anger and hurt, however, was. He blinked, and her gaze was gone. Shaken, Cullen downed the ale and went for a refill. On a whim, he poured Evelyn a glass of whiskey. He wordlessly set it in front of her, and she wordlessly accepted it. The razor edge of her anger dampened some.

Evelyn nursed the drink for the following hour, occasionally dipping her finger in and swirling it about or running her fingertip along the rim to wrap the glass in spirals of frost. She kept quiet with a little smile toying on her lips despite having depleted most of her coin. With that progression of time, the dark swell of emotion had primarily subsided and in its place bloomed a light contentment as the table shared embarrassing and ridiculous stories and gave one another some shit.

Cullen, focusing on the bond and sorting through how he had gotten so lost, had stayed quiet far too long and found himself in the cross-hairs. A grape pelted him on the side of the head. He rubbed where it hit him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone brood so fantastically," Dorian said with hushed amazement.

“I’m not brooding.”

Blackwall tossed down his cards. The table was showing more and more caution with their coin as Josephine’s pile slowly grew larger and larger.

Varric smirked. "Moping, then. You seem like you're champion at it."

“I'm perfectly content at the moment."

Evelyn, much to his surprise, shot him an amused look. It was the first time her eyes fell upon him without any accompanied harsh feeling. Cullen forced himself to maintain eye contact. He nervously rapped the cards against the table.

Varric barked a laugh. “Oh, so that's you smiling? Glad you clarified. I'd never have known.” 

Evelyn's lip quirked up farther and Cullen, feeling the heat flare across his cheeks, dropped his gaze. He fiddled with his coins for something to do with his hands while he weighed his options. He could take a page out of their book and attempt to bridge the gap between them or continue to let her hurt fester.

After a moment more, he leaned back and tossed a silver into the pot. "Templars are trained to veil their emotions. They're a weakness to exploit," he began. Bull and Cassandra bobbed their head in agreement. Evelyn was picking through her coins, the corners of her mouth turned down into a small introspective frown.

“As such, it was easy among the recruits to forget that we were more than comrades in arms, that we were Brothers. Friends. A family of sorts." He gestured vaguely around the table. A few drinks rose into the air with hummed sounds of agreement. Cullen lifted his a little in return and brought it to his lips. "Well, there were countless ways to remind one another of that fact." Cullen took a deep pull, running thumb and forefinger around his mouth when finished. There was a table full of expectant grins.

"Nothing cruel, just harmless pranks to make the recruit feel like he'd been accepted into the family." Cullen never spoke of his time as a Templar. It was seventeen years of his life that just happened. As such the table, stunned out of their propensity to poke fun and tease, listened with rapt attention. "There was this one recruit, eager as anything, who made sure everything was done by the book, even going so far as to notify senior members of their oversights."

Evelyn tossed her silver in and raised her eyes to meet his. Dull, but not blank. Intrigued. Curious. Trying to fit the pieces together before he revealed the whole picture.

“The man wasn't arrogant or anything, he just couldn't help himself." Cullen shrugged and hunched forward, bracing his elbows against thighs, hands dangling between his knees. "It was an innocent prank. Adjust the clocks so he'd arrive in the middle of evening prayers before dinner. Simple." He smirked and leaned back in the chair. "As it turns out the recruit had left something in his pocket when he tossed his uniform into the laundry after his graveyard shift. A token from home. Evidence of a broken rule!" Cullen said with a flourish of his hand. A small round of amused chuckling sounded. Evelyn smiled a little.

"So the recruit, believing he had a few moments to spare before his usual timely arrival, sprinted out of his dormitory. If he took the shortcut through the dining hall, he reasoned, he could retrieve his uniform, his token, dress and still be the first man in the hall."

From across the table, Cassandra gasped. _"Dress?"_

Cullen chortled into his mug, taking another deep pull to hide the color on his cheeks, or if that failed, give him the flushed appearance of one who's had too many rounds. He set the tankard down and wiped the foam from his lip.

"The poor recruit ran out into the dining hall in nothing but his knickers, and this… profound silence fell over the hall as seventy mages, and thirty Templars all turned to stare at once. Then a slow round of applause began. And spread until every soul was on their feet. A standing ovation!"

Josie placed a hand over her heart as if she felt so deeply for the poor recruit. "What did he do?"

Evelyn met his gaze, and she smiled fondly having fit the pieces together. Cullen wondered if she was still wearing that token.

"Well, the intent was to remind him they were Brothers, get him to ease up, rattle him a little. But there he was, practically nude, being catcalled and applauded."

"Don't leave us hanging, Curly!"

Cullen huffed a small laugh. "He saluted. Turned on his heel and marched out like he was in full armor."

Cassandra covered her mouth and giggled. "He did _not.”_

They were not fools. They knew Cullen was the recruit, but they were kind enough to ridicule him. That was wrong. It wasn't that they were 'kind.' Cullen was part of their little family, and not because of his relationship with Evelyn, but in his own right. The way the group laughed with him and not at him was satisfying. Blackwall's laugh, having shaken the dust from his vocal cords, was deep and rich; Josephine's light and airy, and Bull's thunderous.

“You’re shitting us!" He boomed, gesticulating enthusiastically with his tankard in hand. Ale sloshed out the side.

Varric snickered and shook his head, a grin stretched across his face. He jabbed a finger at Cullen. "That’s how you know it’s true. I could never put that in a book. Too unlikely."

"So shiny!" Cole happily said as he took that hand much to the surprise of the entire table. Probably out of pure luck. Or from talking to the cards.

Varric winked. "Good for you kid." The spirit-boy beamed, overjoyed, and began to mimic the placement of Josephine's coin. Evelyn, finally having finished her drink, made to stand. Cullen shot to his feet.

"Allow me," Cullen insisted. Evelyn averted her eyes and blushed when their fingers brushed together. Something warm and affectionate filled his heart, soothing his frayed nerves. He doubted forgiveness would be won so quickly, but this evening, the trap undoubtedly sprung for both of them, was a step in the right direction. She thanked him quietly when Cullen returned her drink.

Varric smiled kindly at Cullen before turning his attention to Evelyn. "It time you ante up Feathers."

"I suppose I could tell one…." Evelyn took a sip and leaned back in the chair. She set her drink aside and fiddled with her measly stack of coin. It would not be long before she was forced to drop out. "It was the night of my Harrowing. I was standing in the middle of a room filled with Templars and Senior Enchanters. As the Knight-Commander read me the Chant, I got the nagging feeling something was missing. Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with my Harrowing. Apprentices are told nothing about it, not even what they will face. The whole thing is very hush-hush." Evelyn tossed her blind into the middle of the table.

“Surprise mystery demon or Tranquility. How acutely distressing,” Dorian mocked.

"I should have seen it coming. The whole day had been a mess. They had orchestrated ways to lure me to specific places at specific times. Even spilling something on me to force me into the Chantry issue robes.” She rolled her eyes. “So there I was flanked by my brother and another Templar, the First Enchanter stood before me, and while I should have been listening, I kept running through my day trying to figure out what I was forgetting."

Cullen tossed in his coin, deciding he wasn't going to get upset or lecture. "You _really_ can't help yourself can you?" he teased.

Evelyn smiled. Bright and honest and just for him. “You know me. Dangerous or not, I couldn't just let it go."

“Investigating mystery noises in suspicious caves is my most favorite manifestation of that particular trait,” Varric agreed with a lopsided grin. Her companions chuckled. Her eyebrows shot up, and she gestured toward Varric as if that explained everything. Cullen felt his lip quirk up affectionately whether he wanted it to or not.

“My brother nudged me," she continued, quickly scanning her cards before setting them face down in a neat stack on the table's edge, "the First Enchanter raised the basin, and I emptied it.”

“You _what?"_ Cullen and Cassandra exclaimed in unison.

“A basin?!” Dorian laughed.

"It’s a shallow basin," Evelyn specified, lifting her hand to pinch her fingers together about an inch apart. “You’re only supposed to take a sip, just enough to slip into the Fade and once finished you’d slip right back out. Needless to say, it took forever for me to wake up and when I did my brother’s sword was biting into my chest.” Her marked hand came up and touched over her heart. “Terrified, I reacted. Enchanters began tossing up barriers and Templars were Silencing left and right."

“Reacted how?” Cassandra asked, curious about the large detail Evelyn had skipped over. Had she injured anyone, she wouldn't be sitting there.

"I shifted," Evelyn said as if it were nothing. Cullen choked on his ale and Blackwall slapped him on the back, but shrugged with a little laugh when his hand met plate. Thankfully Dorian asked the question Cullen couldn't.

“You're a shapeshifter?"

"I wish. I'd been trying for years, and to this day it's the only time I managed."

“Probably because of all the lyrium you drank,” Cassandra chuckled.

"What did you change into?" Blackwall urged.

"A rabbit!" Cole answered excitedly. The table let out a wave of entertained laughter.

Evelyn grinned. “Naturally, I panicked and escaped through one of the narrow channels that allowed the tower to breathe. When I got into the hall, there were rabbits everywhere. You see, I had been practicing replication spells when they came for me, and I didn't cancel it before I left the lab. All the Enchanters who knew creation magic were Silenced, so the Templars had to track down the offending rabbit to stop it. Then they couldn't let any of the fluffy creatures outside until they found me. Had anyone thought to look in my dorm they would have found me hiding under my bed. But they didn’t. So everyone wandered around, knee deep in bunnies,” Evelyn said with a little, embarrassed laugh, “for almost a full day until I had enough mana to shift back.”

Cullen smiled fondly, amused, but it was tempered by the fact Evelyn was climbing from the abyss. The very abyss he swore he wouldn't let her fall into, somehow having fallen in himself.

Across the table, Cassandra was beside herself. “You’re joking," she managed, wiping tears from her eyes.

Evelyn shook her head. “They put me in the Ostwick Circle history book, which the First Enchanter kept under lock and key, and never spoke of it again.”

“Not bad! You don’t mind if I steal that one, do you?” Varric asked, producing a little pad of paper and a pen from his pocket.

“Feel free,” Evelyn shrugged, and the dwarf instantly started scratching away.

“I liked the part with the rabbits,” Cole added. “There should be more rabbits in stories.”

“There should,” Evelyn agreed kindly.

Josephine touched Evelyn on the arm again. “That was scandalous. It would ruin the Inquisition if anyone found out.” She leaned conspiratorially toward the mage. “Tell it again.”

“I think not!” Evelyn laughed, so light and honest. “I’m not sure what possessed me to share it in the first place,” she added laying her cards face up with the rest of the table as the round ended. She looked down, lashes sweeping over the color on her cheeks. Her hand fluttered up to feel how deep the blush was.

Cullen ached for her then. She had given him everything at his insistent behest, but the split-second things got difficult. Complicated. Becoming twisted in his head. He fell back upon old habits. Ultimately abandoning her when she needed him most.

“And the Dealer takes everything! “I win again.” The table sighed in unison, and they watched Josephine rake in her winnings.

Cullen was eager for this socializing to end. He needed to make things right. “Deal again,” he insisted. “I’ve figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador.”

Josephine abandoned the precise stacking her coin, ten deep if copper, five deep if silver. “Commander,” she chided gently; her hand resting daintily over her heart. “Everyone knows a lady has no tells.”

Cullen shoved the rest of his coin forward. “Then let's see if your good fortune lasts for one more hand.“

“I’m not losing anymore coin to Josephine,” Evelyn said with a soft smile, “but I have got to see this.”


	26. The Mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leliana is the best <3

Evelyn felt horrible, especially so when his underclothes sailed over the table and landed on the pile of plate and clothing between her and Josie. With that final barrier gone, Cullen turned  _ red. _ Every inch of skin Evelyn could see radiated embarrassment. To her right Josie leaned forward, leering. Cullen matched her movements. Bracing forearms on thighs to curl in on himself to hide as much as possible, yet his face remained the stoic mask of the Commander. 

Evelyn shook her head, trying, in vain, to rid her face of the damned, amused smirk tugging at her mouth. To his right, Varric downed the rest of his ale. 

“Don’t say a word dwarf."

Of course, Varric ignored him. “I tried to warn you Curly."

Cullen sighed, his composure finally cracking as his head fell forward.

“Never bet against an Antivan, Commander,” Josie said, shoveling her winnings into an empty mug as her purse was far too small.

Cassandra abruptly stood, chair scraping against the stone. “I’m leaving,” she huffed. “I don’t want to witness our Commander’s walk of shame back to the barracks.”

“Well I do,” Dorian drawled suggestively, fingers of one hand twirling the curl of his mustache. Cassandra spat a disgusted noise and left. Cullen continued to stare at the stone beneath him.

Evelyn didn’t want to believe the Lady Ambassador a cheat, but there was something about how brutally the round ended that left her suspicious. Cullen had the hand up until the river, then nothing. Literally nothing. Though that fact was no one’s fault but his own, Evelyn took pity and locked Dorian under her gaze. After a moment, his hands came up in a warding gesture though the wicked glint in his eyes remained -  _ fine, fine, I’ll relent - for now. _

“It comes off,” Cole said, and Dorian laughed bodily. “I didn’t know it came off,” he added confused. Somehow Cullen’s blush deepened.

The gathering began to break up as the Inner Circle randomly started pushing away from the table. Except for Bull. He had passed out midway through her story. His crossed arms pillowed his head with one horn angled up into the air. 

“Cole, my boy,” Dorian began fondly. Evelyn felt her heart squeeze as she watched Dorian run his fingers tenderly along one of Bull’s horns. “We have a lot to teach you.” Cole smiled a little, and they exited together.

Blackwall trailed after Josie; the pair began gathering the remainder of her winnings, and Varric tipped his chin as he passed. Evelyn started to push out of her chair to follow after him but hesitated when Cullen finally lifted his eyes. The muscles in his jaw worked, and his head cocked the opposite direction everyone else was departing, toward the servants' door that would take them to her quarters. His bright, golden eyes seemed to be begging her. She lifted her hand -  _ later  _ \- trying to ignore the pinch in her chest as she turned away.

Everyone relied on her too heavily, trusted her too much, was blinded by the sickly green glow in the palm of her hand. It was about time someone else saw the wreckage left in her wake - held her accountable -  _ blamed her. _

“I’m glad you decided to join us tonight,” he said as she neared, eyes lifting from the flames back toward the table. 

Bull had resurfaced and had a fist raised into the air, cheering Cullen on as he streaked from the room. His enthusiasm woke Sera, who Evelyn didn't even know was there, and she slurred something before passing right back out. The second the Commander was gone, Josie and Blackwall dropped the bits of armor and clothing they had been collecting and left. 

Varric smirked. “It’s too easy to mistake you for the Inquisitor."

Evelyn felt another pang of guilt. Recently, she had been distant with her friends, passively turning them away or avoiding them altogether. Out of everyone, Varric was the last one she would have expected to grab hold and drag her from under the safe, cold, indifferent mask of the Inquisitor. 

“I enjoyed this,” she admitted, lifting her fingers in farewell as Bull staggered by.

“See? That’s what I mean,” Varric said finally meeting her gaze. “It’s easy to forget you’re not an icon or symbol. Like those statues of Andraste holding bowls of fire. At least it is for me."

Evelyn felt forgiven, that the shards of their friendship had been pieced back together while she was looking the other way. She grabbed hold of the moment, fearful if she let go it would vanish and be left with nothing but a wisp of her memory. But Evelyn held on too tightly. Like sand the tighter she grasped, the quicker it slipped through her fingers. 

“You up for another game when this is all over, Inquisitor?” 

The title wounded her. She stepped closer to the fire and crossed her arms to help hold herself together until she could slip back under the mask.

“Feathers...” Varric said in a quieter more grave tone. His copper eyes warm and sincere. Evelyn quickly stepped forward and hugged him. Varric chuffed an affectionate laugh and patted her on the back. 

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good!” Varric said forcing cheer through the raspy emotion in his voice, pulling back and smiling brightly though as his ruddy cheeks flamed bright red. None of them dealt with open affection very well. Plus she had basically mashed his face into her chest. Evelyn felt herself blush a little in turn. “It’ll take me a while to talk Cullen into it. Maybe I’ll work the ‘revenge’ angle.”

Evelyn tensed at hearing his name and hummed a noncommittal sound. The hug probably assisted Varric in segueing right into the next stage of their plan. 

“Up for another round?”

She sighed. They had already sprung their trap, no point fighting it now. “Might as well get this over with."

“Am I really that predictable?” Varric protested with a laugh.

“I can already guess who all will be waiting at the table on the third floor of the tavern that is reserved for such talks,” she allowed dryly.

His head tilted with an arch of his brow. "Can you now?" Varric mused as a shit-eating grin bloomed across his face. 

______________________________________________________________________________________________

That Leliana had been present was surprising, that she said nothing until they were alone wasn’t.

“We all have different ways of doing things." 

Not knowing where this particular conversation headed Evelyn remained aloof. “We do,” she agreed amicably. 

“Some prefer not to be seen at all, to cloak themselves in shadow and darkness,” Leiana continued as the pair stepped beneath the covered walkway. “I realized that it is not such a bad thing to be seen, as long as you do not stand out and are quickly forgotten. I specialized in blending in, not drawing attention and looking like I had every right to be there. It is invisibility, but of another kind,” she explained ushering them into the empty Main Hall. 

There was a serenity to the space that could only be found at night after the visiting lords and ladies left. The hearths and suspended bowls of fire burned low. Casting off a warm glow that reflected off the evenly spaced suns of hammered bronze and gave the towering, armored birds standing sentinel at her dais a lifelike quality as the pyrophite they were carved from reacted to the nearby flame. It was similar to the incandescence of smoldering embers. Ethereal and only possible to witness when the sun fell from the sky.

Leliana pushed back her hood, briefly training her gaze on the statues, but she was impossible to read when she didn’t want her thoughts known. Grey eyes blank, but all-seeing. Analyzing the small nuances that gave Evelyn away, calculating their place and path on her web the instant she collected them.

“But there are people with a certain dignity and grace,” she said with a subtle tilt of her head. “It draws you to them, no matter who you are, or who they are, or if they wish to be seen or not. These people are natural born leaders. They inspire greatness and loyalty through the sheer strength of their own. You are one of these noble souls, and while you have mastered the art of invisibility, in your own unique way, you cannot hide from those who know you best.” Her brow twitched down as Leliana read her reaction.

After a long moment, the Inquisitor lifted an expectant brow, silently asking if the rogue found what she was looking for. 

Leliana’s lips puckered. “It seems I have taught you well.”

Evelyn smirked. “One cannot achieve greatness without great teachers.”

Her eyes twinkled playfully. The assassin laughed. “How delightful.”

“I appreciate the kind words.” 

“They are true,” Leliana said, her smile shifting into something warm and affectionate. “You are not alone in this no matter how much you may feel so now.”

She felt her chest pinch again, and the Spymaster averted her gaze while Evelyn composed herself. Bringing her hands from behind her back to brush off the snow still clinging to her outfit, then quickly wiping at the moisture building up in her eyes. 

“True to the leader you are, you made sure everyone, including me, was handling what happened at Adamant healthily,” Leliana continued gently. “You carry much for us, even tonight you gathered more while we were trying to lessen yours.” It was a simple statement of fact that had become apparent over the last several hours. Evelyn looked up, desperately trying to keep herself in control, but still, Leliana didn't relent.

“Evelyn, my dear, it's time put aside the mask. Come out from the shadows so we can help you heal too.” Leliana slipped a hand into hers giving it a little squeeze before pulling her close. Evelyn laughed a little. It was watery and thick. Loving and hating her friends simultaneously. 

“He's in my rooms isn't he?”

Leliana pulled back, holding her at arm's length by the shoulders. Cullen had hardly moved any belongings in, but honestly there just hadn't been time. The last couple of months had been one thing after another she finally admitted to herself. 

“Our rooms,” Evelyn corrected. 

The assassin smiled, just a small curl at one corner of her pouty lips then slipped silently from the hall.


	27. Retrograde**

She rested her forehead against the wood for a moment, trying to calm the deafening roar of blood in her ears. Eventually, Evelyn gave up and pressed down the latch. The door swung silently inward. She forced herself over the threshold. One foot in front of the other into the main room where she would find Cullen asleep.

His soul was quiet. Peaceful. Something she hadn't felt in a while. Evelyn wove her hand, lighting the candles nearest her to shed some light in the room. A small part of her wanted to turn on her heel and leave, but the fact that he was there after all made her heart squeeze again. 

Evelyn drew in a deep breath and tentatively reached out. She ran her fingers through his loose curls. Once. Twice. She had forgotten how silky and soft they were. Her airway started to burn and her vision blurred.

"Cullen?" A wave of gooseflesh traveled up her arm as she felt the scratch of his stubble against the back of her fingers. His head turned toward the touch as if trying to keep it there as she withdrew her hand. His hand came up to where her touch had landed, and his eyes fluttered open.

"I’m sorry,” she said, not sure what, exactly, she was apologizing for, but felt it necessary to start with. 

He said nothing, only slowly pushing himself upright to sit on the edge of the bed. Golden eyes not searching or seeking, just _ drinking _ her in. Evelyn could feel the blush ignite across her flesh. It was  _ too much. _

She was warm.  __

_ Hot.  _

She ripped off her scarf and coat, tossing them on the settee on her way to the fireplace. Kneeling in front of it to recalibrate the Fire glyph so she wouldn't suffocate. Too long had she worn the mask. Used it as a shield, a crutch,  _ an excuse,  _ and too quickly was it being stripped from her.

When she found the strength to look at him again, Cullen had moved. He leaned against the settee, watching her still. Evelyn couldn't meet his gaze. She had become so numb to the dark squall of her own emotions that when she peeked at his Evelyn had remained unphased, but the sudden shift in the winds was disorienting. Leaving her staring into the rising sun wondering how she had weathered the storm.

Evelyn had to confess. Cullen deserved more than that, but it was the least she could do at that moment. He didn't reach for her as she neared, and Evelyn couldn't figure out what that meant, but she found comfort in it on some level. Perhaps he didn't wish to risk breaking her further, and for that she was grateful. Evelyn didn't know what would happen without the mask holding her together. 

She sat at the other end of the settee, if only to put some distance between them, and removed her boots. When Cullen stepped close the fist around her heart loosened, but still, she pulled away, tucking her feet under herself.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

"Yes, I do," she said, hating how the return pressure took her breath away. Evelyn closed her eyes and lifted her hand, asking him for a moment while she reached the crest of that wave and eased herself back down. 

Evelyn forced her eyes open when Cullen took a few more steps to position himself directly in front of her. She didn’t need the bond to know how he felt. It was written in every sharp angle of his body. Shining in his beautiful golden eyes with unshed tears as they scanned her face. Evelyn wanted to soothe his pain away, leave him with only that which she intended to give.

Her chest burned. She drew in an uneven breath. “This,” she wove her hand between them,  _ "mess _ is my fault, not yours.” His features fell further, hurting for her more than himself. The unshed tears were now dusting his eyelashes, and Cullen dropped to his knees before her. 

“Ev, it's not.”

She nodded. Now very aware that hiding behind the mask did not do anyone any good, especially her. Lost in her dark memories and emotion. Regret, fear, shame, _self-loathing._ She was the problem. 

“What happened was not your fault. I tried to tell you not to hold it in.” Tentatively, his hand extended out in front of him. Wishing to comfort them both, and _ Maker, _ she wanted his touch, rough and sweet, but if she allowed herself the indulgence she would never get it out.

Evelyn lifted her hand apologetically. _ Reluctantly. _ Her vision blurred again.

“I just- I need to say it first.”

His hand hovered before her a moment, and Evelyn ignored the complex series of emotions just on the outskirts of her thoughts. She didn’t want to read him. She wanted to talk -  _ fix this _ \- and as if he understood, Cullen reluctantly complied with her silent request. He did not back off to generate space between them but closed his hands around the settee mere millimeters from her as if he couldn't bear the thought of moving away now that she was almost under his fingertips. Cullen hushed her as the tears suddenly welled over. Muscles tensing as his grip strained against the settee. 

“I’ve been there Evelyn. I know how it feels, and I never fully emerged from that place until I found you. Let me help.”

A small sob escaped. Evelyn bit her lip, barely managing to nod. Of course, he would understand. She had once thought to belong to Cullen was the Maker’s cruel joke, but now she saw His wisdom. Evelyn had helped heal him so he could do the same for her when the time came. 

“Nightmare didn’t wish to tempt, only torment.” At the look of pained understanding clear in his eyes, Evelyn averted her gaze. She picked at her nails and forced herself to continue, struggling to remain calm, to remember she was safe, but it was a pointless endeavor. That helplessness, that ...  _ panic _ still welled up in her chest, and without the mask, there was no stopping it.

“It dug around in our minds. Bent on breaking us down and making us weak. It was overwhelming, and just the thought of how close I came to succumbing is _ paralyzing."_ Evelyn despised admitting that she had almost failed him, failed herself, failed _ everyone. _ She was ashamed that all it took was narrowing in on fears locked away in the recesses of her mind. She angrily tried to staunch the flow from her eyes when Cullen yanked her off the settee.

One hand tangled roughly into her hair, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck. His ragged breaths fanned hot against her skin. The other arm held her forcefully against him. His heart pounded just as heavily as hers. She clung to him, fisting her hands into his shirt and curls; breathing him in, and he held her tighter because of it. 

“Deep down I knew I wasn’t in a good place, but I wanted this so bad I didn’t stop to think what damage I could do. I wanted to give you everything-”

“Evelyn, you have given me everything, more than I ever dared dream.”

“All I've done is drag you down with me.”

His hold loosened some, and not ready to let go, Evelyn twitched. “No,” he said, nuzzling against her neck before pressing his lips to the scar there. “I just wasn't sure which of us, if not both, was struggling and I was ashamed to approach you without knowing for certain.”

“It was all my fault. Then I was angry and hurt, and I had no right.” 

“You did. Pulling away has never done either of us any good. I knew better, but I don't want to argue fault. Let's forgive each other and ourselves. I love you.”

That fist around her heart vanished, and Evelyn took a deep breath. “I love you too.”

Cullen threaded his fingers through her hair, thumb running along her cheekbone. “Kiss me. Please."

Evelyn smoothed his hair down and brushed her lips across the shell of his ear, heart fluttering at his soft sigh, before shifting her weight. Her hand cupped his cheek as she sat back. The care and devotion shining in his golden eyes was endless, stabilizing as she gazed into the very center of her universe. Evelyn moved her free hand to rest over his heart and with only the slightest bit of hesitation, pressed her mouth against his.

The rush of emotions that overcame her was like falling in love all over again. How time froze the first time they locked gazes. How the furrow of his brow deepened with each departure and her each return was greeted with an even brighter smile. His heartfelt promise and the pain in his eyes when he let her go. The hazy, fragmented dream, now irrefutable fact, where he confessed his love by her bedside and prayed for the chance to tell her. As if experiencing the same flood of memories, his hand splayed out between her shoulder blades and Cullen angled her to deepen the kiss with a heartfelt groan when she immediately opened for him. For long minutes, they stayed like that. When it ended, both pulled serrated breaths into their lungs.

“I've always loved you.”

“Since the beginning.” Evelyn threaded her fingers through his hair at the base of his skull and rested her forehead against his. “I'm sorry I made you wait.”

Cullen pulled back to gaze into her eyes. “After seeing you earlier this evening, I knew nothing had changed. I just didn't know how long it'd take to find you again.”

Her chest pinched again. “I'm so sorry. I-“ Evelyn cut off when his thumb gently swept along her bottom lip as he cupped her jaw.

“No more apologies.” His eyes moved away as his hand dropped to her neck. Cullen lifted the delicate silver chain to run his fingers down to his coin. “It seems you weren't as lost as I feared.” 

Evelyn watched his fingers run over the worn grooves. “Before tonight I think I was.”

Cullen grimaced. “I'm glad it helped, but I am never playing cards again.” 

Evelyn felt herself smile. “That’s too bad. Watching you lose made me want to play more often.” The heavy blush from earlier in the evening was quick to resurface. He gently set the coin back against her chest, eyes flickering to the side. 

“I do not need help embarrassing myself in front of you.” 

She cupped his cheek, coaxing him back to her. She felt awful for teasing him. Cullen was in shambles during the game, and once she put her anger aside, Evelyn had felt deeply for him. Aching to help in some way but not knowing how when she was a mess herself. 

“You only made a rash decision when you didn't know what their endgame was.” 

“Leliana filled me in afterward.”

Evelyn bit at her inappropriate smile. “You ran into Leliana afterward?”

He smiled a little in response, bashful and reserved. “Thankfully she hid me in an alcove until everyone left.” His brow dipped down. “I still can’t find my… never mind.” 

“Don't worry. No one made off with your underclothes. Someone stuffed them through the door handle on the servant's stair. They’re in my coat pocket.” 

Cullen shook his head a little. “Did it help?”

Uncomfortable again Evelyn felt the need to move. She stood, and Cullen was quick to follow after her, threading their fingers together to keep her close.

“Let's start simple. Tell me about your magic. The Anchor felt more separate after the bond.” 

Evelyn nodded, swallowing when he untangled their fingers to begin to unbutton his shirt. She knew what he was doing, and she couldn't help but take advantage. Cullen smiled and willingly allowed her to take over.

“Air and Water magics have always felt natural. They flow. It's as if I'm only changing their course, and showing them where to go. Fire is unpredictable, but also flows. Earth is something else entirely. It's solid, unyielding.” Evelyn paused a moment when she pushed the shirt open to step close and wrap her arms around him. She felt the muscle of his back and nuzzled against the steady beat of his heart for a moment. Her heart fluttered at the soft sound in his throat. Evelyn pulled back to look up at him, feeling a little more on stable ground.

“Now they all... answer when called? It'll take some time to adjust and become efficient, and I'm still not quite sure I'll branch out. Other than maybe healing,” she shrugged and pushed the shirt from his shoulders, running her hands down his bare arms in the process. 

His fingers played with the hem of her blouse before slipping underneath. His touch was electrifying, alighting her every nerve. There and gone to pull the shirt over her head. It instantly returned to wrap around her rib cage; his thumbs lightly brushed the bound sides of her breasts. 

“Have you been training?” 

“It kept me occupied ” she said. Her eyes fluttered shut when Cullen encouraged her arms up. Evelyn complied, threading her fingers together to cradle the back of her head and giving him full access to the binding. “You said the Anchor feels more separate. How did it feel before?”

“Like it was trying to consume you,” he said quietly. 

Her eyes snapped open. Cullen removed the pin holding the end in place and reattached it to the free end so it wouldn't get lost. He tipped his chin apologetically.

“I didn't ever think it wise to tell you so bluntly, discharging it prevented the worst of it.” Cullen began to unwind the material slowly. “Have you used it since?” 

“I had to close a rift recently,” she swallowed thickly at the memory. How her companions had begun to implore her to do _ anything  _ after Evelyn had allowed wave after wave to come forth. Completely freezing up at the exact moment where only she could act. “There was a little discomfort, but my arm didn't feel like it was on fire.”

“Did it feel like you were going to be dragged in?” 

“No, not at all.”

A held breath puffed gently between his lips and Evelyn sighed as the last bit of fabric fell from her breasts. Tiny speckles of gooseflesh rippled across her torso when the cool air met her heated flesh. His hands ran down her sides, sending out another wave.nEvelyn leaned up to kiss him; rosy peaks tightening as they skimmed through his chest hair and across his flesh. His hands smoothed down her back, thumbs tracing the ridges of her spine.

“Up,” he said, squeeing her hips. She complied and hopped to give him plenty of leverage to lift her. Her legs locked around his hips as she turned her head, offering herself to him. Cullen responded instantly, wrapping his lips around a pulse point and bit. Tongue immediately sweeping over to soothe away the sting. 

Evelyn loved when he marked her, staked his claim, showed the world she was his in the most primal of ways. He alternated between tongue and teeth as he worked her throat, focusing on that one spot for a moment; with one strong arm Cullen held her to him while the other divested himself of his remaining clothing.

Cullen set her down gently on the bed. In her haze of pleasure, through half-lidded eyes, she watched him crawl over her. Evelyn welcomed him by spreading her legs wider to accommodate the width of his hips. Cullen settled his weight and only then did Evelyn remember she was still partially dressed. Her whine was consumed by Cullen as he captured her lips for a slow, passionate kiss.

He shifted, breath fanning across her cheek as he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. His lips trailing away, and ghosted along her jaw.

“Tell me these fears,” he breathed into her ear. 

Evelyn knew what he was doing, chasing away the dark with his golden light. Comforting and soothing with his touch. Willingly shouldering some of her burdens and reminding her she was not alone, and she couldn't help but love him more for it. 

“It’s my fault my brother died,” she managed.

“No,” he disagreed firmly, shifting low to kiss the valley between her breasts before mouthing a nipple. “He saw what I was blind to for so long. That mages are people, that serving and protecting goes beyond the masses.” Cullen repeated the action, moving from one to the other until Evelyn was panting, desperately trying to fill her lungs, not getting enough air even as they rapidly expanded beneath him.

His hands locked around her hips as Cullen moved back onto his knees. He hooked his fingers into her bottoms and began to peel the fabric from her body. Evelyn lifted her hips, then legs to make the chore easier. Then she rose up on her forearms, trying to focus, to listen. She found herself momentarily distracted by his beauty, but the anger in his voice brought her back to him.

“That sometimes defending  _ people _ from your Brothers is necessary. He died not just for you, but for others, he may not have given a damn about.” He tossed her clothing off the bed and dropped back on his heels with a sigh. “I tell myself I would have done the same, but a part of me wonders if I would have.”

“Cullen,” she said. He smiled sadly and ran his hands up the inside of her thighs encouraging her to spread for him.

“I want you to watch,” he murmured, his hot breath gusting over her sex. His eyes locked on hers and the heat in those golden depths alone was enough to make her come. “You can’t save everyone.”

Cullen kissed her, lips finding her little bundle of nerves effortlessly. Her hands fisted into the sheets as she struggled to remain still for him. He angled her hips, giving him easier access and allowing her to better see. His tongue swept down her sex, opening her to him and a strangled moan got caught in her throat. 

“You never stand by and do nothing,” he breathed before his tongue flattened against her. He moaned at her taste and trailed his tongue up, circling her pearl before capturing it with his lips and sucking. She cried out his name unprepared for the bolt of pleasure that coursed through her.

“Though sometimes I wish you would.”

Her arms trembled and gave out when his fingers traced along her slit. Predictably the pile of pillows she rested against kept her slightly inclined, allowing her to continue to watch as two long fingers dipped into her folds. 

“Tell me,” he said.

“That I’ll fail.”

“Impossible.”

“We don’t even know what he’s planning, how to-“

“Irrelevant. That… creature doesn’t know what he’s facing. I do. You’re strong. Beautiful. Deadly. My lily of the valley. My everything.” 

How Cullen was managing structured conversation or coherent thought while his attentions were so thoroughly captivated Evelyn didn’t know. She didn’t really care. She only cared about his words reverberating through her, his tongue lapping at her, his appreciative moans and talented fingers. 

“What else?”

Her eyes squeezed shut, just on the cusp of her release. “That you won’t want me,” she panted.

Without warning his ministrations stopped, and Cullen was pulling her into an upright position. “Does this feel like I don't want you?” he demanded, wrapping her hand around his length.

Evelyn pumped him, reverential of the  _ man _ Cullen was. A year ago they could barely look at one another without blushing, and there they were, staring one another down as his hand moved with hers, stroking his throbbing cock. It sent a tingle down her spine. 

“No,” she gasped.

“Look. Is there a trace of anything that could give you doubt?”

Evelyn let go of him for a moment when Cullen encouraged her to lay back and lifted her hips to place the pillows she had been leaning against underneath her. She knew nothing would be found, still she did as he asked, basking in the fathomless depth of her own love echoing back.

She leaned up on a forearm, hand molding around him to stroke him a few times. “No,” she repeated more firmly. 

Cullen loudly groaned when she teased him along her. His hands locked around her hips and the split-second she positioned him, he pressed into her. She fell back into the mattress, breath shuddering out as he stretched and filled her. Cullen pulled her hips back to seat himself fully, and Evelyn wished he had chosen another position. She wanted to touch him, kiss him, whisper how much she loved him into his ear as they came together - but all of that vanished when he moved.

He felt so  _ good. _ She let him know with her frequent moans and murmured words of pleasure. Each thrust filled her completely, hit that spot that made her see white, allowed her to  _ watch, _ but Evelyn couldn’t keep her eyes on the thick glide of him for more than a few seconds at a time. It was  _ too much. _

_ "Cullen," _ she moaned, head falling to the side and fisting her hands into the sheets.

“If you had never come back I would have torn down the Veil myself to find you,” he rasped through quick pants. Her heart squeezed but before she could speak his thumb pressed against her bundle of nerves, stealing an unrestrained cry of ecstasy from her throat. “I should have let you join us. Then I could have done more in the aftermath.”

Her eyes snapped open to find his already locked onto hers. Wishing to comfort, Evelyn reached for him, fingertips grazing his knees.

“Cullen, please. I want to touch you.”

He tugged the pillows out from under her as he shifted his weight. The moment her hands landed on him he rocked roughly into her with a strangled noise. Evelyn quaked around him, her inner walls molding to him, allowing her to feel his every ridge as her release neared. Their lips crashed together in a frenzy of sharp breaths and tangled tongues. Evelyn broke away with a whine of his name as the first wave of her climax washed over her, tingling  _ hot  _ up her spine.

“Now no demon can ever take you from me. I’ve healed you, claimed you, made you mine,” Cullen whispered, plunging into her again and again and  _ again _ in a desperate, backbreaking rhythm. 

The second wave hit and Evelyn snapped. Her entire body quivered, trembled,  _ shook _ and a deep groan rent from his chest as Cullen crashed into her again, sending out a final wave of heat as he found his release.

After a moment more, his lips brushed across the spot he bit when he came. Evelyn carded her fingers through Cullen's curls and smoothed her unmarked hand down his side. His head lifted from her shoulder, and their mouths slid lazily together. When it ended, Evelyn couldn’t quite pinpoint when exactly nor how long they lay like that lost in one another’s lips, Cullen ran his nose alongside hers before sliding from her body. She felt the shiver run through him, enhanced by her own.

Evelyn scooched the quilt out from under her and Cullen slipped in beside her. She lazily wove her hand through the air to extinguish the candles. With the fire in the hearth burning low, the snowfall was vibrant against the night sky. She brushed her lips across the scar on his chest before settling against him.

“Perhaps you should get out of the habit of stripping your reports,” Cullen said after some time. “No one else does it.” 

“I know,” she demurred. “But everyone expects the impossible.”

“They might out there,” he waved his hand vaguely toward the windows, “but we expect nothing of the sort.”

“Sometimes it feels too heavy to put on paper.”

“Maybe you're right,” he murmured “Leliana convinced me to read the one from Adamant, and it was bad enough as is.” 

“Maybe I can just talk to you about it.”

“I’d… like that.” That he sounded surprised stung a little. Before Adamant she had been trying her best to open up more, but the aftermath likely set her back at square one. 

“Was there anything else it used against you?” Cullen asked after a moment. 

“No,” she answered honestly, and because he deserved to know, she told him. “It focused on you mainly.”

“Of course it did,” he said with a sigh.

“I knew all those fears were in the past, but it was overwhelming to relive, knowing what I could have never had.” 

Cullen turned his head into her hair and took a deep breath, his heart rate accelerating slightly beneath her cheek at the stress of such a thought. “I wish I had never allowed those fears to enter your mind. That I had handled the Alliance differently.”

Evelyn herself up to look into his beautiful eyes. “When it comes to you and me, the past doesn't matter.” 

He smiled a little. “Only the future.”


	28. To Be At Her Side, Always...

Evelyn landed on her ass, but she pressed her fingers to her temples. It felt like a dam lifted. A confused rush that took her breath away. Once it passed Evelyn dropped her arms. 

The long, narrow room contained an assortment of low setting furniture covered in dusty sheets yellowed with age situated in a way that gave the space the appearance of a chapel. She glanced over her shoulder at that otherworldly structure. The Eluvian. Its distorted surface appeared fluid, metallic, almost like quicksilver. There was an iridescent glow to it that left her unsure if it was reflecting the room back at her or showing her something from… beyond. But it was the sharp, yellow eyes of a hawk that drew her attention. 

Morrigan's gaze was predatory. She wasn't looking at Evelyn but  _ seeing _ her through the mask as if it wasn’t there. After a moment, with a tilt of her head, she spoke. 

“Are you well Inquisitor?” Morrigan wondered in that unsettling singsong voice of hers. 

“Today has been… very long,” she admitted honestly. After the week off for the holiday there had been an astronomical list of things to address in Council. The interruption by Morrigan was just the cherry atop her shit-sundae. “Shall we head back?”

“It would be wise to show the others I did not devour you in our absence,” she allowed, drier than the desert.

Evelyn not expecting or wishing the woman to assist her up pushed herself off the floor. “And here I thought I wasn’t your type.”

The Advisor of the Occult lifted her brow in an amused manner, and they fell into step. Evelyn asked all the questions she could think of on the return journey. However, by the time the massive, ornate double doors rose up before them, she was done playing nice. She shoved the door open and the murmured conversation of her advisors instantly went quiet. They slowly drifted apart, each taking point at their usual positions. A united front she was very glad to see.

“I understand your urgency,” Evelyn pushed back. “But I will not set us up to fail. We will not move on the Wilds without our allies.”

“If Corypheus gets to the-“

“The Inquisitor’s plan is sound,” the Commander cut in coldly. “I will see that we reach the Temple before Corypheus.” And before Morrigan could argue, Leliana spoke, politely considering the steel glint in her eyes. 

“The Inquisitor and Commander Rutherford are scheduled to leave for Val Royeaux to set things in motion. So the sooner we conclude this meeting, the sooner you can get to your Eluvian.”

Displeased the apostate’s brow dipped down. Her yellow eyes shifted from person to person, not giving any particular advisor more attention than the other, before trapping Evelyn under that piercing stare. Her head tilted, just barely a fraction.

“You remind me of her.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Leliana shifted her weight and Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. Though the woman looked angry, and two of her advisors uncomfortable, Morrigan’s comment had a strange wistfulness to it. She wasn’t positive, but it felt like a compliment. Evelyn knew who ‘she’ was based solely on Cullen’s and Leliana’s reactions. Part of her wondered what the Hero of Ferelden was like because from what Alistair had told her, Evelyn resembled his soulmate not at all. Pale skin. Vivid blue eyes. A blonde so fair it appeared almost ashen-grey. A beautiful embodiment of the element she favored. 

“And because of that,” Morrigan continued, tearing her eyes from Evelyn to glare at Cullen. “I will trust her judgment.” 

The hardness in the his eyes remained, but he tipped his chin in agreement. 

At that, the Advisor on the Occult began to stride from the room. Their eyes locked one last time when Morrigan glanced over her shoulder, her enigmatic smile was partially veiled by the ridiculous feathered pauldron. After she slipped from view, the following silence was oppressive, and Evelyn wasn’t sure how to diffuse it. Everything that had transpired since Morrigan’s interruption was disorienting. The Eluvian. The Crossroads. Cullen blinking from awareness. Morrigan’s cryptic behavior. Her gut said to trust the apostate, but everyone except Leliana clashed so hard against the woman that it made doing so difficult. 

“I am liable to agree with her,” Leliana said, surprising her and causing Cullen increasing discomfort. Evelyn knew of his youthful infatuation with Solona. It didn't matter, but his embarrassment was endearing. Leliana glanced his direction before continuing, leaving Evelyn not quite sure who, exactly, she was speaking to. “Do not let us cloud your judgment. I once had a very similar conversation with Amell as you and I had last night.”

Cullen’s hand dropped, and he met her gaze; even managing a reassuring smile. “Now why am I going to Val Royeaux?”

“We thought it might be wise for you to accompany the Inquisitor into the heart of Orlais and personally encourage the Imperial Army to pick up the pace,” Josephine put in without raising her eyes from the reports she was gathering.

Though Cullen had not a clue what was going on, a grin slowly spread across his face. “Of course, shall we?” 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t argue.”

Outside the towering double doors, Evelyn errantly thought the floor could use a Fire glyph before the heart of winter struck to ensure it didn't ice over and send someone slipping over the edge to their deaths. As if reading her mind, Cullen, ever the gentleman, put himself in between her and the massive hole in the wall. 

“Why Val Royeaux?”

Evelyn handed over the piece of unsealed parchment. “I found this in the stables next to that toy Blackwall has been working on.” 

Cullen flipped it open and frowned. “This doesn’t seem right.”

“It doesn’t.” Evelyn leaned against the door to the Main Hall, trying once again to decipher the cryptic note.  _ A griffon was a partner and equal, or else it was a foe. _ The Warden wasn’t one to veil what he was trying to say with clever words which made the simple sentence that much more worrisome.

“But this doesn’t answer why Val Royeaux.”

“This does,” Evelyn said, handing over the partially burned piece of parchment she had found in a brazier. 

“Did he intercept this?” 

“Based on Leliana’s reaction, he did, and she believes the ‘why’ could be troublesome for the Inquisition.” 

Cullen sighed heavily. “Where, exactly, do I fit in?”

“With me. I thought it was too soon for us to be separated after everything."

“I have to agree with that.”

Relieved, Evelyn leaned into Cullen. Their breastplates softly rang together, preventing her from getting as close as she would have liked, but found the coolness of the metal comforting against her heated cheek. 

“I packed your go bag while you were taking care of your morning rounds. Rylen said he's got everything covered, so if we leave now, we should get to Val Royeaux before this execution takes place, and I can figure out what it is we're dealing with. The others should be waiting for us in the Main Hall.” 

“Others?” It was apparent he wasn't ready to face 'the others' after his humiliating loss to Josie. Evelyn had to give Cullen credit though; he endured the Lady Ambassador’s snark with a bite back of his own. With her companions, however, he'd be grossly outnumbered. Not wishing him to change his mind, Evelyn remained vague, yet decisive. 

“Cole needs a little context, and Dorian is my cover if anything goes awry.” 

“Okay,” he murmured, coaxing her lips to his before entering the hall’s chaos. When the door swung open, a stream overlapping conversation invaded the parlor. The area around them quieted as they moved through the lords and ladies, but the moment the Commander and Inquisitor stepped away excited whispering bloomed in their wake. As the last clump of guests moved out of the way, Cullen shot her a look. Evelyn shrugged.

“Don't say a word dwarf,” Cullen warned. Varric laughed and opened his mouth to speak, but Evelyn quickly interrupted. 

“You really are that predictable,” she said. The dwarf rolled his eyes, and waved them off. 

“This will be good! Dorian and I can show Cole around town.” As if on cue, the duo emerged from the rotunda. Dorian shot her a kind smile before carrying on with his usual sass. 

“Yes, yes,” he hummed. “See the sights, drink the drinks, eat the eats. You know, the bland stuff since Cullen has already shown the boy the goods.” 

“Did us a solid Curly,” Varric agreed in all seriousness. Cullen groaned and Evelyn slid her hand in his and squeezed reassuringly.

“I’d tell you all to behave, but that seems a pointless endeavor.” 

“Well,” Dorian began airly, “I don’t believe our Commander is an innocent as you think.” Evelyn bit her lip, trying, in vain, to stop herself. 

“I know he isn’t,” she mumbled because Evelyn was just as terrible as her friends were. Cullen gaped at her, very much telling her to shut up with his eyes. Evelyn wished she had kept her mouth shut because almost instantly Varric produced a little pad of paper and pen from absolutely nowhere. 

“Finally,” he said, and Evelyn quickly began to herd Cullen out the door. 

“Finally what?” he asked glancing over his shoulder.

“Remember how I told you about those books Cassandra likes?” she asked. Cullen came to a grinding halt three steps down.

“Yes,” he answered, looking mildly panicked. 

“I haven’t seen any evidence that he’s serious, but he once told the group he’s writing a book about us.” 

Instantly, his entire face flushed an alarming shade of red. “Book?!” The word came out loud and startling. The clink of coin sounded, and Varric’s exasperated rasp chased after it. 

“Awe, Feathers… You weren’t supposed to tell him.”

“ _ Closing Rifts! _ “ Dorian laughed, pocketing the money. “Evelyn, love, you forgot your staff.” He held it out to her for emphasis. 

“Sometimes I really hate you guys,” she sighed, leaving Cullen’s side to collect it. Dorian tsked unhappily, but his eyes were nothing but fond. 

“He is going to have to get used to us if he wants to tag along more often,” he said quietly so Cullen wouldn't overhear. 

“As if last night wasn’t enough,” she replied under her breath.

“Fair enough,” Varric said, and Dorian tipped his chin in agreement. Rejoining Cullen, Evelyn ran the back of her fingers across his stubble. 

“Don’t worry. Nobody will know it’s us.” 

“That’s a lie,” he said, not angry or even uncomfortable, just a simple statement of fact. Then much to Evelyn's surprise and enjoyment, Cullen offered her his arm. She gladly accepted, and they descended the stairs. Her trio of friends followed in their wake. 

“It was apparently in the works long before you and I were an item, if that helps any.” 

“Helps me maybe,” Cullen frowned, “but I imagine it wasn’t beneficial to you at the time.” 

“It wasn’t,” she said. Cullen was quiet for a while, and Evelyn let it go. He seemed content overall, and there was no need to disrupt it after the turmoil they shared over the last couple weeks. 

“Curly is obvious,” he began, gesturing toward his hair. “But why does he call you Feathers?”

Evelyn felt herself smile. “He says it’s because my head is always in the clouds, but you know it isn’t that simple, right?”

Cullen glanced her direction, fond smile shifting into something suspicious. “What do you mean?”

“The complex is where Varric reigns,” Evelyn said leadingly; shooting Cullen a knowing look, and his face fell further. “My Uncle used to call me his little owl. I would spend hours in the library, often all night. But owls are also considered ill omens and the harbingers of death. Divine bad luck and roaming the countryside killing random strangers. Feathers." She had accepted the twisted nickname ages ago just like everyone else.

“And here I thought I was being clever,” Varric said as they caught up outside the stable door.

“So…” Cullen began and then instantly trailed off, warring between curiosity and denial. 

“Don’t get wound up about it, Curly.” Varric reached up and slapped Cullen on the back of his plate as he entered the building with Cole in tow. The Commander blinked a few times, before his hand came up, vaguely gesturing toward the dwarf. 

“He really is an asshole.”

“That’s what I said!” Dorian and Evelyn said, then laughed in tandem.


	29. The First Step...

Evelyn slipped into one the derelict cells across the hall when footsteps began to descend the nearby staircase. Fade cloaking as she watched Black-  _ Rainier _ move back from the bars to lean against the far wall. His arms were crossed as if he had not a care in the world. The guard stopped before his cell, the only occupied one on the basement level, and after a long eerily silent moment, the man spat on the ground. 

_ "Nique ta mere!" _ Then he turned on his heel and stormed away. Only when Rainier approached the bars again did Evelyn slip from the shadows and her spell. 

“This isn't over,” she said. Rainier nodded solemnly and opened his mouth, but Evelyn had no desire to listen to him any longer. The man, whatever he wished to call himself, wouldn't give her away by yelling. Of that much she was sure.

“It is, Trevelyan. I've seen to that.” His low, barely audible reply chased after her. 

Evelyn was furious that he was right.

At the end of the long hallway, the mage slipped back into the disused office and locked the door behind her. She took a moment to ensure everything was as she found it before climbing atop the small table to squeeze through the window. Cullen’s hand reached inside, gripped her forearm, she his in return, and he pulled her through. Cole abandoning his post to the Commander told her more clearly than the bond ever could that Cullen was agitated. 

Or so she thought.

Once outside, he threw the coat over her shoulders and shut the small window with the toe of his boot before pressing her against the wall. Cullen slanted his mouth over hers, moaning when their tongues stroked together. The sound reverberated through her; lightning surged through her veins. But at the sound of someone shouting nearby, Evelyn tore away from Cullen, and he stepped between her and the approaching knight. 

_ “Excusez-moi,” _ Cullen began in broken Orlesian, causing the man to slow his stride considerably. Then he laughed a little and rubbed the back of his neck. “I'm sorry, could you point us to the Avenue of the Sun?”

“Did you get lost, my friends?” The man drawled; his dark eyes appraised her with a smile that was more a predatory bare of his teeth than anything. Evelyn pulled her coat shut and began fastening the complicated series of buckles. Her hands were shaking, and it made the task exceedingly difficult. At least her dress was modest; however, the material was meant for a much warmer climate, and her supporter wasn't as lined as she would have liked.

Dropping the lost lover's act, Cullen took another step between them, blocking her from view more thoroughly. “These back alleys are like a maze.”

The man clicked his tongue. “Shortcuts can sometimes cause more delay than pleasure around here.”

At the implied threat, Evelyn pushed off the wall to be at Cullen’s side. Her lion shifted his weight, insisting on keeping his mass between the two of them, so she put her hand on his back; trying to soothe his anger. Should anything happen, they needed to be as calm as possible about it, and for one long,  _ awful _ moment Evelyn believed it would. She masked a barrier spell by brushing her hair back with her free hand.

The knight looked at Evelyn, head tilting to the side inquisitively. Perhaps he saw the threat burning in her eyes or felt how the narrow, snow-coated alley became colder and darker, but after a moment more his gaze shifted back to Cullen. Then he turned around and called over his shoulder. 

“But who am I to be the cause of that delay?”

Their fingers eagerly tangled together once the threat passed and they followed at a safe distance from the chevalier should he have a sudden change of heart. Evelyn only released Cullen to turn up her collar when the knight bid them farewell. She felt the need to cover every inch of skin possible. Once positive he wouldn't return, they silently traveled, arm in arm, down the main thoroughfare to the Painted Window. 

Cullen slid the deadbolt over once they were in their temporary rooms before glancing out the nearby window while removing his charcoal grey wool jacket. Evelyn breathed a little easier, but still unsettled by their encounter, her hands began to shake again. It made the cursed buckles on the Tevinter coat near impossible. Almost instantly, Cullen was before her, gently stopping her motions so that he could take over. 

“I hate to think what would have happened had I not been there.” His voice was low, intense with hard anger in his eyes. Of course, the only non-chivalrous knight in Orlais would stumble upon her in a dark alley.

“Staff or no, I could have defended myself,” she tried to reassure. His hands came to a grinding halt, and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“You’re missing the point," he gritted out.

“Cullen,” she said softly. Only continuing when he met her gaze again. “I’m not. I promise. I’m glad you were there, just not that you were unarmed.”

“That will be _the last_ time I let my guard down just because we’re in a city’s walls.” 

“It’s fine. We’re fine,” Evelyn cooed, stepping close to be wrapped in his arms. His heart pounded in his chest, and she rubbed his back, searching for a way to help him to release all the tension, but he couldn’t let it go.

“The way he  _ looked _ at you-”

“I know,” she said. They stood like that in the entryway, holding one another for a long moment. Eventually, Cullen took a deep breath and pulled back to curl a lock around his finger. 

“Maker only knows how much worse it could have been had this looked normal."

Evelyn rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll come out; the solution is in the washroom.” Being on the third floor up allowed them to be level with the glass baubles of varying shape and size that sent a warm light into the entry hall. No longer did her cascading waves of chestnut shimmer in the nearby lamplight. It was raven black, identical to Dorian’s.

“It even smells wrong,” he said with a very honest frown.

“The dye is made from black lotus.” 

“It is really awful.”

Evelyn felt herself smile. Up until the execution Evelyn had been enjoying taking a page out of Leliana’s book by blending in, not drawing attention, and looking like she had every right to be there. 

“Meet Dorian’s visiting cousin, Aeryn Pavus.” Evelyn dipped into a small curtsey as Dorian showed her was appropriate in Tevinter. “Once we learned the gravity of the charges we deemed it unwise for the Inquisition to show interest.” 

“I have to agree, though I would still like to know why you were sneaking through windows.”

“I needed to hear it from him.” Angry all over again, Evelyn stepped past him into the main room, tossing her jacket onto a chair before heading for the balcony's double glass doors. Cullen was quick to grab hold, giving her arm a brief squeeze before turning her around. Gently. 

“Don’t blame yourself. We all made this mistake," Cullen said. Evelyn felt so strongly for him then - her gratitude easily overwhelming the suffocating heat of her fury and shame. “Black… Ranier has accepted his fate, but you don’t have to. We have resources.”

“If it were up to you, what would happen?” 

“What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable. He betrayed their trust, betrayed ours. I despise him for it,” he said, voice hard. Evelyn closed her eyes, leaning against the door and rubbing her temples. Internally cursing the tension headache and the  _ mess _ that caused it. After a quiet moment, Cullen hooked a finger under her chin. The hard anger gone from his features. Only a warm devotion radiated from his honey colored eyes. 

“And yet he fought as a Warden,” he continued softly, dipping his middle finger into the cream for his headaches. “Joined the Inquisition. Gave his blood for our cause. And the moment he shook off his past, he turned around and owned up to it.”

“But why?” It was the one thing Blackwall could not or would not answer.

Cullen lidded the small container and slipped it back into his pocket. He paused a moment, and Evelyn felt herself smile a little. Her eyes slid shut as his thumb and two fingers ran along the bridge of her nose, then across the base of her skull. 

“He wanted to change and to prove that he’d really left his past behind, he had to face up to it.”

Within a few seconds, the pounding in her head faded, allowing Evelyn to sense his regret. It was dark and cold, just on the outskirts of her own. She wanted to tell Cullen to forgive himself, to remind him he had been only lost, that he was, and would always be  _ him. _ He had proved that by acting when it mattered most - standing up to Meredith, inserting himself between his Brothers and an apostate, leaving behind the Order, ashamed of what it had become - but she already had and the fact it wasn’t an immense amount told her Cullen was slowly accepting that. 

“Thank you,” Evelyn breathed, holding his hand in place on the nape of her neck. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You shouldn’t thank me. You make it.” 

Evelyn huffed a small laugh. “You know what I mean.”

Cullen kissed her crown. “I know, but I can’t tell you what to do.”

“I want Rainier released to us,” she said. Cullen pulled back and pressed his mouth to hers. 

“Then we must move quickly; we can explore our options back at Skyhold,” he replied. Evelyn grabbed his arm before he could walk off. 

“Let’s get some sleep first. We rode all night to get here and to be honest; I’m beat," she said, pressing down on the handles behind her and pushed the doors open. Evelyn stood at the farthest point of the curved balcony to give him some time to work through his thoughts. 

Though it now was nightfall, Val Royeaux was the city that never slept. Laughter, bits of conversation, and the chime of glassware drifted up to the balcony. Couples meandered down the Avenue of the Sun and trailed through the gardens. All of the ladies had their delicate hands warmed by fennic fur muffs, which were all the rage that winter, while all the lords had walking sticks. The more extravagant ones had ivory handles made from giant tusks, or the entire thing was carved from ironbark. All of it was a gross display of wealth.

“I am tired too,” Cullen said as he joined her. His hands smoothed across her shoulders and down her arms, rasping delightfully across the skin the splits in her sleeves bared to him. The cream-colored fabric was held together by little chains of veridium at her shoulders. Then the fabric cascaded down her arms to be secured by wire-thin bracelets of the same at her wrists. Evelyn leaned against him, and Cullen rested his chin on her shoulder. 

“We have some time to spare. The General said that they would make a spectacle worthy of his execution.” 

“Did you snarl at anyone my Commander?” she wondered. Cullen kissed her neck, and Evelyn was quick to tease. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“They believe they are better than everyone." He said ‘everyone’ but what he meant was him. Orlais had the terrible mindset of seeing Fereldans as nothing but a bunch of uncivilized dog lords beneath their time and consideration. Evelyn adored the honest, straightforward ways of the nation and the man it shaped. It infuriated her how they desperately searched for something in his lineage to make him worthy of a place among them. 

“Except you maybe,” he added after a moment.

“They only don’t dare speak ill of me in front of you.”

“Wise decision.”

“Perhaps we are finally old news after all."

“The scandal,” he said dryly, encouraging her head to tilt more to the side to place open kisses on her neck. Evelyn pressed back, intentionally rolling her hips against his growing erection and Cullen groaned. His hands began to wander, gently tugging at the linen wrapped around her.

“How do you get this thing off? I don’t want to break it.” 

Unlike the rib crushing corset, plunging necklines, and layers and layers and layers of skirts leaving one wondering where exactly their feet were of the Orlesian style, Tevinter dresses were light and airy. Plus, unlike Halward Pavus, Dorian’s mother had been pleased with her son’s decisions and sent her distant relative some lovely articles of clothing to help Evelyn get in touch with her ‘roots.’ It was silly but sweet, and Dorian had been equal parts proud and embarrassed. 

“You like the dress?” she asked, smiling. Cullen hated Halamshiral, as did she, but it seemed more taxing on him by far.

“It’s like opening a present,” he said.

Evelyn shimmied her hips a little against him. “Happy Satina- Oh wait! I completely forgot!” She bolted away from him, and when she looked up from her bags, Cullen was still standing out in the gentle snowfall. He was hunched over with both hands on the marble. Evelyn felt bad. Full stop didn't usually happen, especially when they were truly alone.

“I’m sorry,” she said, quickly removing the distance she had put between them. Once in arm’s reach, Cullen caged her in his embrace. Evelyn leaned up to give him a soft kiss before leaning back in the circle of his arms and holding up his gift. He looked at it as if it was going to bite him. 

“Better late than never.”

“Evelyn…”

“If you can honestly tell me you aren’t working on something or don’t have something hidden away in your tower, then I won’t give this to you.” 

Cullen furrowed his brow and took it from her after a beat of hesitation. He turned the letter over a few times in his hands. The parchment was thick, crisp, and expensive, but that wasn't what made his brow furrow. The slate grey ribbon was of a quality far above the stray branches of House Trevelyan. It had a metallic luster to it, almost a candescence. There was something about it that was intangible. Smooth like silk, fluid like water, and if she pulled her eyes away from it, it seemed like she was only gently rubbing their fingertips together. Evelyn was glad to finally have some of her own.

“May I?” he asked, holding out a hand. Evelyn slipped her dagger from the harness on her thigh and handed it over. Internally cringing that Cullen really had been entirely unarmed. He slid the blade beneath the seal, and carefully moved it along the wax to preserve the whole decoration. Evelyn held her breath as he read, knowing how he’d react. All she was doing was setting them up to succeed, but she also understood, had their roles been reversed, she would feel the same. 

“Don’t say it’s too much,” she said once he refolded the parchment. 

“But it is too much.”

“It’s not.” The Bann had practically given her the land. She had to insist upon additional relief efforts and rebuilding as he wouldn’t accept any of her money. Ironically, Cullen had set up those efforts himself without knowing why, but that wouldn’t make it any less overwhelming for him. “Who knows how much longer it’ll take, but-“

“It doesn’t matter, it’s the first step home.”

“It’ll happen,” she promised, and Evelyn sealed it with a kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I'm just letting them do their thing. Does this thing need any more angst? Probably not...


	30. Adjustments

Evelyn watched Cullen sleep for some time. Though it was only a shadow of their time at the lake, she would miss this. Working with intervals of them woven in between and then by nightfall setting their respective roles to simply be together. It felt right to go to bed next to him, positive he was safe, and should anything happen, they’d face it together.

It had taken an enormous amount of willpower to leave the bed, and it would take even more to leave the castle walls, knowing that if he were angry or sad or had a day where the withdrawal ate at his soul, she wouldn’t be there. Of course, she knew that before, but the bond changed everything, and yet nothing, at once. 

If she had only done something to prevent herself from shattering when she crashed into the ground, they would have had more time to adjust. And if not for their friends, Evelyn wasn’t sure Cullen would even be there, not to mention still piecing her back together. Cullen began his journey to peace long before, and she was finally catching up. 

Her chest tightened when the sky began to lighten. Evelyn pushed herself out the chair and slipped the notes she had penned into her travel bag. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and carded her fingers through his hair; felt the tickle of his whiskers against the back of her fingers. Imprinting every detail in her mind until she would see it again. Eventually, Cullen stirred, and his eyes fluttered open. 

“You’re already dressed?” He complained; voice hoarse with sleep.

“It was a precaution,” Evelyn admitted sadly. Cullen sighed heavily and rolled onto his back. 

“I still don't understand why you decided upon the Deep Roads.”

“If I went to the Basin, we could exchange letters whenever we wish, which is all well and good, but in the Wilds, we will need to be focused on the mission. Not each other. Consider this a test run.”

"Come back in one piece," he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position to pull her close. Evelyn brushed her lips across his pulse point, longing to soothe the heavy pound of his heart before pulling back to meet his golden eyes.

“That's always my goal.”  


Cullen smirked a little before his lips crashed down on hers in a sudden, aching kiss. The longing alone was enough to make her eyes water. When it ended he peppered kisses along her jaw and crushed her against him. 

“I love you," she said, rubbing her hand along the length of his back in an attempt to encourage the tension already gathering to uncoil.

“I love you too."

____________________________________________________________________________________________

____________________________________________________________________________________________

In her absence, the bond was all Cullen seemed to be able to focus on. Each shift in her mood drew his attention to it. Flutterings of concern, surges of anger, sparks of joy, waves of amazement, and swells of heavy longing. The latter overwhelming combined with his own, especially at night.

Cullen was unable to stay in ‘their’ rooms without her; it didn’t feel right. The first night alone, he found the fire already burning, warm and bright, and a few sealed pieces of parchment resting on his pillow. Each numbered, he eagerly opened the first. 

_ May I suggest pine  _ \- was all it said. 

Only then did he notice the small stack of wood by the fireplace. He tossed a few onto the blaze and was pleasantly surprised when it transported him back to the lake. He slept well that night. In fact, Cullen slept well every night. It took some getting used to, but he eventually managed to set the connection aside.  


It was very much like a sixth sense. You breathe, you see, and you hear, but one doesn't always smell, look and listen. It required some effort very much like touch or taste. Unless Cullen touched her, he wouldn’t know how warm her cheek was. Unless he pressed their lips together, he wouldn’t be able to taste how sweet she was. Unless he reached out, he wouldn’t know for certain if she was amused, happy or sad.

Then it felt like every other time Evelyn left. Nothing had changed. Only now Cullen was able to reach out to see how she faired and be made painfully aware of how far Evelyn actually was from his reach, but he relearned how not to let those facts consume him.  


It was nine days into her absence when Leliana paid a visit. “Celene’s army is two days out from marching.”

“But the Inquisitor-” 

“Is above ground,” Leliana cut in. “And has already been made aware of this development.” 

Cullen glared at her. 

“What?” she questioned innocently. “I’m telling you now.”

“We should wait for her.“

“We shouldn’t.” 

“Perhaps this will help,” she said, lifting a piece of parchment and wiggling it encouragingly between them. Cullen gave her a bland look. “If this is the thanks I get, next time I’ll send that runner you love so much."

“I hate you," he said; the comment lacking any real bite. Her grey eyes sparkled mischievously, and Leliana wiggled the parchment again. This time Cullen snatched it from her fingers, quickly breaking the standard Inquisition seal.

_ C.R., _

_ My team can fly faster than your forces. We will catch up; do not wait on my account. _

_~ E.I.T. _

_ PS: If you still have the last letter, I recommend you read it alone. _

“If we mobilize at first light, the timing should work out to allow our forces to merge in the Dales with Orlais' and approach the Wilds as a united front.” Each and every scenario had been planned and accounted for long ago.

Leliana's lips puckered. “Good to know she can talk sense into you.” 

Cullen sighed, and she just laughed and laughed and laughed.

“Ha. Ha,” Cullen mocked dryly. “Now if you excuse me, I’ve work to do.”

_ "We have work to do. We’re all going. Even the Empress.” _

__

“Is that a wise decision?”

__

“Probably not, but if something goes awry at least the next in line is conveniently exiled. You may get your way after all,” she teased. Cullen rolled his eyes, and she laughed again. “Come, the faster we get this taken care of the faster you can see what that last letter holds.”

__

“How did… You know what, I don’t want to know,” Cullen decided and began pulling out maps. Leliana would have already sent runners for their officers; it was only a matter of seconds before the chain of events set in motion.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the wonderful [vinnie-cha](http://vinnie-cha.tumblr.com).


	31. Revenge**

He shifted his weight uncomfortably in the nest of pillows and blankets. The sheer number of quilts and furs was unnecessary considering the Arbor Wilds were unnaturally hot for the end of winter, but they provided a decent cushion as he reclined against a stack of pillows. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before picking up the letter to read for the fifth time. 

_Why_ he kept tormenting himself Cullen wasn’t sure.

He did not usually give into base desires, but Maker’s breath, the woman had a way with words. The bond told him she was near, but Cullen couldn’t determine if that meant she was a few klicks away or right outside his tent. Just the thought of her so close made his length throb.

_ Shit. _

Evelyn knew him too well. She knew he would wait until the very last minute to read her final note. She  _ knew _ what she was doing. He could sense her delight encased in a fiery desire that made it all worse.

Without warning, the scenes she conjured up seared behind his eyes. The quiet purr in his ear telling him how much she wanted him inside her. The seductive sway of her full hips as she pulled the last article of clothing from his body. Her pleased murmur as she stroked him. 

A shudder ran down his spine and his cock, hard and heavy, twitched - demanding attention.

Cullen pulled a thin sheet over himself and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was continuously amazed by the things she could do to him even when she wasn’t standing before him. He hissed as his fingers wrapped around himself. His breathing labored as he attempted to pull enough air into his lungs to calm the heavy pound of his heart. Trying to decide if he should wait - if he  _ could _ wait. Slowly, he dragged his fist up. His body deciding for him that he couldn’t. 

He thought of Evelyn. Of how she would boldly meet his gaze. Desire darkening her evergreen eyes as she worked him. How she would only break eye contact to press soft kisses to the tip or appreciate his manhood before finally wrapping her lips around him. Cullen couldn’t prevent the groan that rumbled from his chest. He had recreated her so vividly Cullen didn’t catch the transition from dream to reality until she touched him. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and he jumped. 

“Shh.” She ran her nails through his chest hair with a soft sigh. 

Stunned, Cullen sat there. Idle. Holding himself. Hot.  _ Sweating. _ Unable to determine if he was more embarrassed or more aroused than he’d ever been in his entire life. 

One slender hand came up to hold his jaw while she whispered in his ear. “Please continue.”

Cullen was failing at finding the ability to do anything - talk, think,  _ breathe. _ Evelyn kissed and nibbled at his earlobe, and a loud, ragged noise tore from his chest. 

“Just because they can’t see you doesn’t mean they can’t hear you,” she said before withdrawing her touch entirely, dragging a strangled sound of protest from his throat. 

The light behind him dimmed, and a chill ran through the air. His head turned to lay eyes on her. Her lips curved up into a small smile, but her eyes smoldered with a hunger that sent his blood aflame. Her fingers reached into the other brazier, and the flames turned a bluish-silver, causing the atmosphere in the tent to further dim and cool. 

“If you want me undressed - you will continue," she said, moving around the sleeping area to the space between the braziers burning low before him. Evelyn tossed her pack and boots aside then arched an expectant brow.

“Perhaps this will help,” she added, lifting her hand to prepare a barrier spell. The radiant light surrounding the tent was ephemeral; brighter than the sun. Causing bits of metal to glint; her eyes to shine. Evelyn positively glowed in it as if she were alight with the holy fire of Andraste. The miracle on everyone's lips stood before him, and she was  _ his. _ Without thought, his hand picked up where it left off. Evelyn pinched the edge of the blanket between two toes and uncovered him.

“That’s better,” Evelyn sighed appreciatively, and Cullen groaned. 

He fought to keep his pacing slow, to dial back the intensity of the situation, but with each piece of metal and fabric that fell to the floor, his grip tightened, twisting just enough to make the heat singing in his veins as hot as her mouth wrapped around him. Cullen wasn't sure how much longer he could continue.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” she wondered, unraveling the material binding her breasts. “I could watch you all night.” The last strip of fabric fell from her body, and at the sight of her tight peaks, he was liable to snap at any second.

Evelyn turned her head slightly, and Cullen eased up, eager for her to take over. She stepped into the nest and dropped to her knees. Cullen surged forward to kiss her, devouring her moan before quickly breaking away with a deep sound from his chest when her hand replaced his. She wasted no time, wrapping her freed lips around his length. 

“Evelyn."

She looked up at him. The sight of him in her mouth, her eyes dark with lust, was  _ too much. _ Cullen found his release with a roar as she gently sucked him. He panted heavily, winded from the force it, but it seemed Evelyn’s thirst wasn’t anywhere near sated. His entire body seized up at the blinding contact of her tongue molding around him. The incredible heat of her mouth. Some part of him heard himself gasping  _ please _ and  _ Evelyn,  _ but he couldn't determine if he was begging her to stop or continue. Eventually, the intensity of the action faded and the earnest pleas morphed into euphoric moans as Evelyn tended him with determined focus. When the pleasure begins to lock up his muscles again, Cullen  _ begged _ between the soft curses and loud moans he couldn’t hope to hold back to find his release inside her. She sucked hard, pulling a raw noise from his chest before freeing her lips to stroke him.

Cullen looked down at Evelyn knowing he had never wanted her more. He shifted forward to encourage her to lay back, and his hands instantly hooked into her underclothes to remove them. He ran his hands up her legs, watching her flesh ripple with little specks of gooseflesh, and prompted her legs to hook over his arms. Cullen flattened his tongue along her, groaning at the sweet taste of her arousal. Evelyn sighed his name and carded her fingers through his hair as he worshipped her like the piece of perfection she was.

When her breathing became erratic, Cullen couldn’t help but murmur into her. He knew how it drove her mad. He told her everything. From how he appreciated her every word and effort to remind him she was his no matter the distance between them to how he longed for the day they made a life from their love. At that, her body quivered with a heartfelt moan and Cullen crawled over her. 

He pressed into her, seating himself to the hilt as Evelyn scratched at his scalp and back with a wavering exhale. She molded around him, so tight and hot. Cullen thrust into her again, and he relished in her sweet, breathless mewls as she came. 

He was sure to fill and stretch her completely. Reacclimating himself with her every detail as she did the same. Evelyn ran her hands over every inch of him she could reach. Her lips only left his so soft sounds of pleasure could slip between them. How Cullen ever managed to function without this remarkable woman at his side was beyond him. 

Perhaps Cole was right. Perhaps his soul knew he was meant for something bigger. That no matter how much the cruelty of the world broke him, no matter how lost in the dark Cullen became, there would come a day when the soul made for him would save him, heal him, make him whole so someday he could save her too. It hurt his heart he almost failed her, that he didn’t notice the mask holding her together until someone snatched it away and scattered the pieces before him. 

“Cullen,” she said, reaching up to cup his cheek. He shifted his weight to one forearm, lowering himself so there was practically no space between them. She spread wider to allow him to slide into her more easily in their newfound level of closeness. Her lips brushed against his, tasting faintly of mint. “Whatever you’re thinking of, just don’t.”

“I love you.”

“More than reason,” she answered. Then Evelyn kissed him with that low intensity that almost consumed him before the siege. Pushing him to the brink, but Cullen refused to until she found hers. He leaned back on his knees. 

“Come for me, Evelyn,” he ordered; his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, angling her so she could see them come together. He almost left her entirely as he thrust into her. Her eyes quickly squeezed shut as she shattered with a string of breathless endearments. Cullen loved the sight of her undoing, and it instantly brought about his.

His breathing was harsh; shaft sensitive. Tremors waved through his muscles when he finally found the capacity to slide from her body. He practically fell backward into the pillows, exhausted from it all. Evelyn followed after him, curling up at his side.

“I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to arrive in time,” Cullen said, wrapping her in his arms.

“You seemed really worried,” she teased.

Embarrassment bled heavy under his skin. “Shut up.”

“You loved it,” Evelyn said quietly.

“Fair enough.”

“I told you I’d get you back when you least expected it.”

That drew an honest laugh from him. “Sometimes you’re such an ass.” 

“But I’m your ass.” Cullen could hear the smile in her voice. He squeezed her close, kissing her softly on her hair. “We could have been here earlier, perhaps before noon-“

Cullen roughly dragged a hand down his face. “Then what in the Void took you so long?”

“I had to get cleaned up for you. We've been riding nonstop for days. I practically had to drag Dorian from those ancient baths. Blame him,” she said. In reality, Cullen couldn't blame any of them. Evelyn was rushing from one battle to another. None of them expected the Orlesians to answer his call so impatiently. 

“You missed final preparations. We had to change our plans; the first assault will take place before daybreak-“

“I cornered Rylen and Leliana when I got here, let’s not discuss the Inquisition. I have half a mind to leave that barrier up and let the world fall apart around us.”

“It'll all be over someday.”

“Sure, but will that be in another five hours or five years?”

“Are you alright?”

“It's just…” A frustrated sound hummed in the air and Evelyn rolled out of his embrace onto her back. “Do you want children?”

Cullen rolled onto his side, propping himself up on a forearm. “I never considered it until recently,” he admitted. She fidgeted with his coin and the thin chain that secured it to her. 

“Me neither. But if we… They could be- wield magic,” Evelyn finished awkwardly.

“And?”

Her brow furrowed. “That doesn't bother you?”

“After everything we’ve been through together, do you think that would bother me?”

“I think the possibility of such a thing is overshadowed by your desire for…” her hand waved vaguely in front of her as Evelyn struggled over her words, “that something more.”

“Not at all. Things will be different for them if they wield magic, Evelyn. We see to that every day we push the Inquisition a little farther along.”

“I guess you're right.”

“Have faith; we’ll get there.” Cullen enclosed the hand holding the coin in his, resting it over the insecure pound of her heart. “As long as none of these engagements stick.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Josie said she wouldn’t tell you. I agreed to play the pawn; it’s just part of the Game.” 

Her reaction was adorable, and Cullen couldn’t keep the amused smile from his face. “Leliana told me.”

“Did she also tell you she’d-“

“Ensure it came to an unfortunate end, one way or the other,” he finished for her.

Evelyn pushed herself upright and cupped his cheeks. “Nothing will stick unless it’s yours.”

Cullen couldn’t seem to find his voice. He already had her, and a majority of Thedas spoke of their affair as fact, but there was something about dropping all the pretenses and making it official that he longed for. That she wanted it too took his breath away. He managed to nod, and she smiled, leaning close to press her mouth to his in a soft kiss. 

“Sometimes you are a silly man,” she said, quickly kissing him again though he too slow to return it. Evelyn snagged her underclothes and hopped out of their nest. “All this talk of children and you think I’d overlook that detail.” She rolled her eyes and began binding her breasts. 

Cullen reached over for his underclothes. “If Leliana and Josephine fail you, I’ll take care of these suitors myself.” 

“That I do not doubt, for one second,  _ mon féroce lion." _


	32. In Check

The first thing Evelyn became aware of when she surfaced was the scent of him. The second, that it wasn't Cullen. Only him lingering on the pillow beneath her head and the sheets draped over her. Ignoring the ache in the body and burning sensation in her lungs, Evelyn pulled the blankets closer to breathe him in before opening her eyes and dispelling the illusion. 

The snow outside her windows a blinding white under the midday sun. The sweet blue of the sky, cloudless and crystal clear. Her vision blurred and Evelyn reached up with a bandaged hand to wipe the moisture away. Cullen felt so… broken. From withdrawal or whatever happened to her or something else entirely, it didn’t matter. What mattered was she wasn’t there for him. Suddenly, she felt a swell of relief or hope, something positive and she clung to it. Squeezing her eyes shut when an effusion of longing overcame her. His and her own. 

“Heeeyyyy Inky, it's ‘arite.” 

Evelyn pried her eyes opened and met Sera’s concerned gaze. 

“You were banged up pretty bad, but now? Good as new. Ish,” Sera added after a beat. 

‘Ish’ was a stretch. Evelyn hadn't felt this rough since her encounter with Corypheus back in Haven. Her entire body ached, and it felt like she swallowed fire. Evelyn began to push herself into a sitting position and winced. 

“Oy! Careful now,” Sera scolded, hopping to her feet to help. “Don’t go dying or making shite worse on my watch.” 

“Watch?” Evelyn asked once she was sitting upright. Sera nodded, and her cropped hair swung vigorously around her face as she punched some of the pillows, fluffing them up. 

“You’ve been out cold for three whole days. Everyone’s in a tizzy. You hungry? I bet you’re hungry.”

Evelyn laughed, but it instantaneously morphed into a coughing fit. Sera cursed, and her hands fluttered like she wanted to whack her on the back, but decided against it. 

“No dying!” Sera shouted, and Evelyn managed to huff a laugh without coughing again. “I’m off to find Cassandra and have the kitchens send up a feast. Ostwick - cheese, you like cheese? And cookies! No, tiny cakes. Both! I’m hungry.” Evelyn laughed again, holding her side and the rogue pointed at her with an expectant arch of her brow. 

“No dying,” Evelyn promised.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Sera had never looked so damn serious, and Evelyn nodded, trying to smile reassuringly, but the ache in her body was tempering that. Sera disappeared for all of a half-second before peeking back into the room and pointing. Evelyn held her hands up in a warding gesture. Sera smirked then was gone. She knew all the shortcuts around the castle; it wouldn’t be long before Evelyn had company again. Something she was grateful for. Three days was an exceptionally long time to be unconscious. She needed to know where things stood and what happened. Within a few minutes, Varric and Dorian entered the room. 

“Good lord woman!” Dorian exclaimed. “Three days? Who knew you had such flair for the dramatic?”

“How much did you lose?” Evelyn quipped.

“Almost more than you realize," he said with a sincerity that was so unlike him Evelyn knew Cullen must have been out of his mind.

“What happened?”

Varric drummed his fingers on the back of a chair before flipping it around to face the bed. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Evelyn fidgeted a moment with the bandage. “I remember jumping through the Eluvian and then nothing.” 

Varric sat; expression serious, concerned. His mouth opened as did the dining room door.

“Thank the Maker!” Cassandra said with a bit of overly dramatic flair. Though it was probably entirely sincere coming from the Seeker.

The dwarf smirked. “Perhaps we should wait for everyone to get that out of their system.” 

Vivienne entered with an armful of potions and creams. She handed off a list of instructions to Dorian and fussed over Evelyn a moment then bid everyone farewell. By the time she left, everyone but Solas had made their way into the room. The Enchantress was acting as Josephine in the Council’s absence. A wise choice and before Evelyn could ask Cassandra answered. 

“Orders still stand. The Council is en route, but it may be weeks before the military, ours and Orlais’, will be able to leave the Wilds. Corypheus fled, but his forces continue to fight to the death.”

“Of course they do,” Evelyn muttered bitterly. “Who wishes to explain what all of that is for?” She pointed at the supplies Dorian and Sera were shuffling through.

Sera approached with a few potions. “To make you better, right? Couldn’t drink nothing while you were out, but now you're awake.” The rogue handed them over and looked at her expectantly. “Look at it this way,” Sera continued when Evelyn didn’t instantly drink them. “At least you’re not messed up like that witch with her teets dangling out.” She cupped her hands and moved them up and down a few times in front of her chest. Cassandra spat some noise, and a low laugh rumbled from Bull.

Evelyn uncorked the bluish-grey potion with a circular base and long skinny neck. “Morrigan is still-“

“Being creepy and weird?” Varric finished. “Definitely.”

“So  _ loud," _ Cole put in, shaking his head.

Cassandra frowned. “She was Silenced yesterday. It seemed to snap her out of it a little. When you’re able, you should visit her. She keeps saying she knows how to match the dragon and other such things when not mumbling random strings of Elven.”

Evelyn nodded and sniffed at the potion. It had strong notes of spearmint and elfroot. At the arch of Sera’s brow, she shot it back. It was like swallowing ice, quenching the fire in her throat and lungs. She coughed, and her breath actually puffed out in a little white cloud.

“Holy shit!” she wheezed.

“I helped with that one,” Sera grinned.

“You worked with Vivienne?” Evelyn laughed, and for the first time since she woke breathing didn’t hurt. 

“She’s frigging evil, she is, but knows her stuff,” Sera shrugged and wandered over to a seat, kicking her legs up onto the desk.

“I kept them from killing each other,” Dorian said. Sera waved him off and blew a raspberry. Evelyn fiddled with the remaining two potions. “Chase that one,” Dorian pointed at the tall, narrow vial, like a test tube, filled with a viscous heliotrope liquid, so vivid it seemed to glow, “with the healing draught. It’ll wash the taste out.”

Evelyn frowned at the concoction. It looked like she would have to chew whatever it was, but the moment it hit her tongue it liquified. It had a gritty, mineral-like quality to it. Chalky. She smacked her lips wishing she had some water but did as advised. Gone was the aching deep in her bones, and in its place a stiffness while an alarming portion of her upper back began to itch and prickle with the familiar sensation of flesh knitting together. Apparently, she had fractured or broken ribs, deep wounds on her back, perhaps some sort of chemical burn in her airway from the black smoke that rose from the empty Well. Evelyn felt the need to stretch. 

“So what went wrong?” she asked, making her way to the edge of the bed.

“The Eluvian imploded the moment you came through. Nothing was working on the wounds and that  _ witch," _ Dorian spat the word angrily, “wouldn’t do anything other than repeat ‘it’s magic, not glass’ over and over again.”

“Solas managed to navigate us back to Skyhold, but...” Cassandra had gone pale. The room quiet. The furl of her brow deepened. “All the healers were able to do was staunch the wounds with poultices, and the woman who calls herself a surgeon stitched them closed.”

“She can call herself whatever she wants. It worked,” Bull shrugged, and Cassandra inclined her head in agreement.

“Does the Council know?” Evelyn asked timidly. No doubt they all knew what she was really asking.

“I wrote a detailed report. In fact, I should send a raven letting them know you’re awake. He’s about three days out,” Cassandra added awkwardly before disappearing. 

_ "Finally," _ Sera sighed exaggeratedly when the door to the dining area opened, and the smell of food drifted into the main room. Evelyn didn’t realize how hungry she was until that very moment. Those who remained stayed and ate a late lunch. The conversation turned light and fun. When the sun dropped in the sky, shining directly through the west window the gathering began to break up.

“I’ll send up the surgeon. The wounds should have progressed enough by now to remove the stitches. The creams are for the scaring and the burn on your hand. Once it stops-“

“Itching I can leave it undressed,” Evelyn interrupted Dorian with a smirk. He rolled his eyes and followed Bull out.

“I’ll have someone fill the bath,” Varric said kindly. Perhaps their friendship wasn’t as damaged as Evelyn feared. She thanked him, and he blushed. “You know where to find me,” he added huskily.

Sera hadn’t moved. Neither had Cole. “So, Beardy is in the dungeons. You’re not going to take his head are you?”

“Nor will I make a court spectacle out of him. Rainier-“

“He killed Rainier,” Cole interrupted. “He is Blackwall, but he’s angry you saved him.”

Evelyn sighed heavily and pushed herself out of the settee. “As expected.”

“I’ll go with you,” Cole stated. Evelyn nodded, stretching for what felt like the millionth time, and he left.

“What?!” Sera started. “When? I want to go.”

“Daybreak. Before the castle wakes.”

“Ugh, early," she complained, rolling out of bed. “Let’s get you undressed. I’ve always wanted to see what you’ve got under there.” She gestured toward the tunic and waggled her brows. 

When the surgeon arrived, Evelyn forced herself from the bath, and Sera gently pressed the linen against her back before handing it over to let her finish drying off. 

“Nice as all that is, Cully-Wully already wants to strangle me,” she said covering her eyes while Evelyn pulled up her smalls and leggings. Her fingers moved apart, and Evelyn laughed. “Let’s get you unstitched.” Evelyn covered herself with the towel leaving her back open for the woman to work. 

“A soak was wise,” the surgeon said. “Makes the strings more pliable. Still, this is going to hurt.”

Evelyn nodded and held Sera’s hand as the stitches were cut and pulled through her flesh. She chatted continuously, helping keep her mind off of the pain. When finished, the surgeon handed over a healing draught, slathered the wounds with the creams Vivienne left behind, and bandaged her up. Evelyn bound her breasts, pulled on a tunic and grabbed her secondary travel pack, containing an assortment of clothes and toiletries. 

“Where you off to?”

“I don’t want to stay here.”

“It’s sealed up tight.” 

Evelyn frowned and began to set the bag back down.

“But I’m more than happy to pick the lock for you. He can’t be mad about that.”

She tugged on her sheepskin boots and pulled on a coat before traveling through the passages of Skyhold. As expected Varric was sitting at his usual haunt, but unexpectedly his eyes lifted from the parchment before him and waved her over. 

“Expecting someone?” she wondered, noticing the abundance of food before him.

Varric licked the pad of his thumb and turned the page. “I’m not the only one who’s predictable," he said, pen scratching across the page. Evelyn felt her heart warm, and she glanced at Sera. 

“I’ll go take care of that,” Sera said before hugging her. It was angular and awkward, but fierce. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she added before slipping into the rotunda.

Evelyn stuffed her bag under the table and joined Varric. She pulled a plate over, serving herself a light portion as she did at lunch. Until she was sure her stomach could handle food with all the stress, she thought it was best to play it safe. 

“Are you alright?” Varric asked seriously, setting the pen and paper aside and pulling a plate over for himself.

Evelyn picked at a dinner roll. “I’m not sure.”

Varric waved his hand leadingly, encouraging her to explain. 

“Even though we keep removing pieces from the board, it feels like I'm the one being pushed up against the wall.” 

His copper eyes crinkled sadly. “This whole thing has been way more than a few unexpected bumps in the road.”


	33. Homecoming

True to form, Evelyn landed on her ass. 

Pain shot up her spine at the jarring contact. Between that and suffocating pressure in her chest, she pressed her hands to her temples and clenched her jaw; gasping in a ragged breath when the effusion passed. 

Ser Davis helped her to her feet. “Are you well Inquisitor?” His eyes never left Morrigan, suspicion coloring his voice. The woman pushed her chest out in challenge, shoving Kieran behind her. 

“I am well. There is no cause for alarm,” Evelyn said calmly, making eye contact with the other Templars blocking the door.

Evelyn understood why the Commander wanted around the clock security on the Eluvian, but to say she was uncomfortable was an understatement. Though Ser Davis was quiet like Cullen, the others were not. The air  _ sang, _ signaling they had just taken their evening draughts. Thrumming against her in a way she had grown unaccustomed to. Still, Evelyn stepped between them and Morrigan. The woman had been through enough. Curse that stupid mirror and the Fade and that strange, elven God, woman person thing Morrigan spitefully called Mother and everything else that had gone wrong. 

One of the Templars shifted their weight. “Sorry Inquisitor, we thought his presence harmless.”

“It was. This is no one’s fault. Things out of our control were at work here. Now if I could escort Lady Morrigan and Kieran to their rooms.“

Ser Davis stepped in their path. “Your advisors are entering the encampment.” 

She knew he was close, but the confirmation made her spirits soar. However, Evelyn couldn't abandon the apostate just yet. So, she thanked them all, kindly, and put a comforting hand on Morrigan’s back to encourage her and her son from the room. Once in the gardens and Kieran out of range, she spoke. 

“Kieran  _ had _ a destiny, but that destiny is in Flemeth's hands now.” Her face scrunched up, and unshed tears filled the yellow pools of her eyes. “I know he will be safe. The Well tells me so, but it makes this situation no less painful.” 

“I can't imagine,” Evelyn said because she couldn't. 

“You can on some level,” Morrigan replied. Evelyn felt her brow dip down. There was no way Leliana would give Morrigan the reports on her. Nor would any of her friends divulge her history to someone  _ they _ don’t trust. Furthermore, losing a brother or uncle compared not at all to the threatened loss of a child. A life grown and carried within her own body. Without thought, her hand touched over her empty womb, wondering if there would ever be a day she could set aside the draught that prevented such a thing. 

The woman sniffled, but when Evelyn looked again, the woman appeared ever much the same. Standing tall, proud, as if entirely unaffected by everything that just transpired. Everyone wore their masks too well. 

Even her. 

“You do remind me of her,” Morrigan said; her head tilting to the side as she scanned Evelyn’s face. “She said the same thing to Alistair before facing the Archdemon.” Evelyn felt herself blush from head to toe. While she and Cullen had hidden nothing of their last-minute farewell, they sure weren’t yelling affections to one another across the field. Perhaps the woman really was a hawk. 

“I stopped hearing the call years ago during the Blight. I was young. What did I care? I had already mastered my craft thanks to Mother, but having Kieran...” She sought out the strange boy. Her sharp eyes rounded with unrestrained affection when she spotted him working in the herb garden. “He changed all that. Sometimes I wonder who he was. Especially now,” she tapped the side of her head and paused a moment. “Now that I know what it all means. His destiny is in your hands. You must prepare yourself for what is to come, we both must.”

Evelyn managed to nod. Painfully aware of how true her words were. 

She watched mother and son for a moment, desperately trying to calm the frantic beat of her heart. Morrigan kneeled down next to Kieran, squeezing him close in a motherly half-embrace before helping him tend to the garden. 

Evelyn felt her heart squeeze. 

_ Nothing will keep me from you.  _

She turned on her heel and ran, ignoring the displeased tuts of the visiting nobility. Flashing Varric a grin as she tore by and enjoying his now rare, honest laughter. She lept from the steps to the hill below, finding great joy in the bolt of panic and the following flutter of disapproval in the back of her mind, but by the time he came into view her risky behavior forgiven. 

Forgotten. 

Evelyn leaped into Cullen's arms. She momentarily regretted her enthusiasm when she couldn’t find purchase on his plate, but she needn’t have worried. He caught her, crushing her against him. She could feel his smile against her neck. Without a word, Cullen began to head to the keep, kicking open the servant’s stair so he didn’t have to let her go. Before the door swung shut behind him, Evelyn caught the broad grins of her two remaining advisors. Leliana had her hip jutted to the side in a surprisingly feminine, relaxed way, and Josephine, cheeks darkened in an exhilarated blush, lifted her hand to wave a small, simultaneous hello and farewell. 

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“I didn’t like staying here without you.” 

Cullen smiled. All lopsided and adorable. “I don’t want to let you go, but I’d really like to get out of this damn armor so I can feel you.” 

“What a conundrum,” Evelyn said, not moving. His smile grew, and he pressed his lips to hers. Her hands framed his face, enjoying the smile he couldn't shake beneath her fingers. “Perhaps I can be convinced to hop down if you can guarantee you won’t run off to work.”

“Never crossed my mind.” 

Evelyn slid from his grasp, busing herself by lighting the candles and calibrating the fire since the room was freezing since being abandoned two days ago. Once the fire was going, she shucked her coat and boots. It wasn't long before he was helping her to her feet and wrapping his arms delicately around her as if just now remembering the wounds on her back. The worst had passed, but that would never matter to him. They stood like that long minutes. She  _ breathed _ him in. Dust from the road. Sweat from a hard last push. But underneath it all, he was there. Hers.

“What happened earlier?”

“The Eluvian activated, and Kieran went through. To make it all worse, it led us into the Fade instead of the Crossroads.” A shiver ran up her spine. The fear she'd come across Nightmare had been too much. “Everyone is fine though,” she added hurriedly, mainly to reassure herself out loud.

He soothingly rubbed her lower back. “I do not like having that mirror in Skyhold.”

“Me neither. Morrigan and Solas swear Corypheus can't come through but-“

“Obviously something else can if it activated on its own.” 

Evelyn was displeased with the way his homecoming was beginning. “What if it’s something good?” she asked playfully.

“Morrigan claims if I close my eyes and wish hard enough, a fleet of griffons will appear under my command.” 

She could practically hear his eyes roll. “See? That’s probably not true, but it would be fun.”

“It… Well, yes, but that wasn’t my point,” Cullen said with a sigh. “I’ll stop worrying about it. So long as someone’s watching it. Even if that someone is Morrigan.”

“I’m glad to hear it though you may want to remind your Templars she isn’t the enemy.” 

“I hope you are right. Especially since you let her have the Well.”

Despite losing trust in the elf she once considered a mentor, Solas had been obviously relieved she hadn’t accepted the Well. While she wasn’t sure what his end game was, she was confident he didn’t mean her any harm. Defensively, her temper flared up.

“Do I really need something else stacked against me?” She snapped, pulling away.

“No! Of course not. That came out…  _ wrong,” _ he said, catching up with on the other side of the door in the dining area. He grabbed hold of her elbow to encourage her to face him. “From what Cassandra wrote in her report, you went through enough - yet again.”

The  _ whole _ thing - Navigating the thick jungle while partaking in a three-sided war. Corypheus dying and reincarnating because why wouldn't he. Red lyrium spewing from the dragon right on their heels. Doing  _ nothing  _ as they were whisked through secret passages while Red Templars ransacked the temple. The petty bickering. Samson. Trying to convince a forgotten sect of Elvhen she meant no harm. That  _ look _ in Solas’s eyes leaving her feeling as if he was preemptively apologizing for something. Then almost dying. Again - was a shit show. And she said as much.

“The whole thing was a shit show.”

“It really was. Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you had not been at the Conclave? If you’d never become the Inquisitor?” 

There was a little bit of regret in his voice that made her sad, but she could honestly say the thought had never crossed her mind. Cullen was worth every hardship she had endured. Evelyn reached up to smooth her hand over the furrow in his brow, hand carding through his hair as she brushed their lips softly together. She lingered there, just barely tasting him.

“A life without you?” she mused, feeling him smile against her. “Never."

Cullen grinned until Evelyn slipped out of his grasp again to enter the washroom. It was a large open room with a copper tub in the middle. The floor sloped just enough for water to drain out of a small system of channels lining the bottom of the outer wall. The setting sun cascaded in through the windows reflecting ethereally off the hammered metal. It painted the grey stone with splashes of orange and yellow and brilliant white. Evelyn pulled the moisture from the air and filled the tub. Thanks to the Fire rune worked into the metal they would have a nice, hot bath within a matter of minutes.

“Why do you keep wandering away?”

“I figured,” she began leadingly, activating the rune when he followed after her. “You’d like a wash, a shave, and a chance to survey the damage.”

“I hate I wasn’t there.” 

Evelyn warred between agreeing and disagreeing. It would have been nice to wake up to him. To have him around while she recovered and tried to reign in the panicked atmosphere around the keep, but then he would have had to watch her almost die - again… She chose not to respond and leaned into his touch. Cullen buried his face in her hair, breathing her in one more time before letting go to undress. 

She knew some part of him blamed himself, and nothing she could say would help, but she tried anyway. “This will all be over someday.”

He breathed a laugh. “You didn’t find that very reassuring when I said it, and now I understand why. Is there a reason you’re still dressed?” 

“Every once in a while it’d be nice if I could spoil you a little.” He arched a questioning brow, and Evelyn pinched him on the ass. “Just get in.” 

He laughed and obliged much to her delight. Evelyn took her dear sweet time washing his hair. Cullen practically purred as she massaged his scalp. When finished she styled it, carding her fingers through the loose, golden curls much longer than necessary before brushing her lips across his temple.

His eyes opened, and the little, content quirk of his lip grew into a fond smile. “I could get used to that.”

“So could I,” she confessed. “Trust me with a razor?”

“I’d trust you with anything, love,” he said, eyes fluttering shut as his head rested back once again. 

Evelyn was proud of herself. She gave him a successful, clean shave without drawing one speck of blood. She brushed their lips together to signal she finished and he groaned a little into her mouth, making her smile. With only the slightest bit of apprehension did she begin to undress. Instantly, his achieved state of bliss vanished. Evelyn wished she could have done things in reverse, but he wouldn't have cooperated once he saw. 

Cullen pushed himself upright and held his hand out. First, Evelyn plucked a couple of mint leaves from a plant on the nearby table. One for him to wash the bad taste out of his mouth and one for her, so she had something to chew on while he worried over her. 

He engulfed her hand in his. Placing his lips over the remaining leaf twirling between her fingers, Cullen pushed it from her grasp with his tongue before helping her in the bath. Evelyn situated herself between his legs. Wrapping her arms around her knees to give him complete access to her back. 

He brushed her hair forward, draping it over her shoulder. The ends submerged in the water. His hands ran over the deep bruising. Fingertips ghosting over a few shallow cuts. Only then did he begin to remove the bandages covering most of her upper back. When the warm, moist air hit her skin, she held her breath knowing what he was about to see. 

Cullen cursed under his breath. Evelyn could sense his hands hovering over her flesh, searching for someplace to touch. To comfort. To make it better. 

Evelyn released a staggered exhale. “It looks worse than is.” 

His touch tentatively landed on the outskirts of the war zone where her back was littered with wounds. It ranged from tiny nicks to a foot long gash cutting diagonally from shoulder to mid back mirroring the scar carved across his chest. That they it had been stitched closed made the whole thing look gruesome. 

“I’m okay,” she said, slowly feeling herself getting overwhelmed by his grief. When something warm and wet fell on her back, Evelyn moved, turning to wrap herself around him. Help hold him together.

“I'm here,” she said. His arms still hovered, and she held him tighter. “Cullen, touch me. Please,” she encouraged when his only answer was a few more tears on her shoulder. 

With a ragged exhale he finally wrapped his arms around her. “The thought-“

She petted his hair, letting the unfinished sentence go. It killed her that Cullen had to endure almost losing her again. That he had been unable to help in any way this time made it all just  _ hurt. _

“We'll get through this,” Evelyn murmured after an eternity wrapped around one another. 

“I wish it ended at the Temple. That this was the last thing you had to endure, but no. He has disappeared without a trace, and now we must wait for him to bait you again.” 

Evelyn sighed heavily. She had been ready at the Well, as ready as she'd ever been, but whoever that woman, or spirit, or whatever was who rose out of the Well disagreed. Evelyn tried to make light.

“Knowing my luck, he’ll return to where this all started.”

And he did, the very next day. 


	34. More Than Just a Moment**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse the EXTENDED "temporary" hiatus. I have a full time job, two young kids, & had to stop putting so much pressure on myself to write. This is for fun & somewhere along the way, it stopped being fun. Plus, I have been **insanely** distracted with my Noir AU for these two, but I have finally finished rereading and ~~correcting the horrible typos~~ editing this fic, and I am glad to finally update it.

It was a little upsetting that Cullen was missing from the celebration, but the connection told her he was fine. In fact, he was better than fine. Ever since they bonded, she had felt heavier, and Evelyn had assumed that was natural, but then again with everything hovering above them, she should have expected no less. 

The split second the signal horn had sounded, and the fires had gone up along the road, she had felt lighter. And then even more so when Cullen had embraced her, burying his grin in the crook of her neck in front of everyone. Immediately afterward, Josephine had whisked her away, for once letting her wash up and relax while the Council handed Inquisition matters. By now ravens had been dispatched to their allies, agents, and troops, and they all celebrated their victory from afar.

Evelyn imagined she’d be frequenting similar events regularly in the foreseeable future, but there were worse things. Like the Fallow Mire or this dark grey petit fours topped with gold dust. Perhaps she should have just listened to Leliana, but as usual, curiosity had gotten the better of her. At least Evelyn could say definitively that deep mushroom and anise was an awful combination. ‘Exquisite misery’ indeed. Especially with Bull and Dorian laughing at her. 

“Ick. Why did we save Orlais again?”

Bull canted his legs out wider as he settled more comfortably in the chair. “Not everything out of Orlais is bad. They have some very interesting shops on the Avenue of the Sun if you know where to look. Isn’t that right Dorian?” He said, giving him that ridiculous one-eyed wink of his. 

For a moment, Dorian smiled but then just as quickly it evened out. “Interesting is certainly one way of putting it.”

Bull grinned. “Boss seems like the adventurous type. Next time you head to Val Royeaux, I’ll tell you where to go. Cullen might run away blushing like a virginal maiden, so you best go alone and surprise him.” 

At his name, Evelyn habitually turned her head to scan the hall for him, yet again, and was pleasantly surprised to find Cullen leaning against a pillar by the main doors. The nearby brazier caused the flecks of gold in his Ferelden brown eyes to molten. Shine.  _ Burn _ with a reverence that drew her to him like a moth to a flame. 

“Excuse me,” she said, taking a few steps backward. 

Bull grinned knowingly. “Duty calls?” 

“Something like that,” she replied, and he laughed. Dorian rolled his eyes. 

Evelyn could not recall ever seeing Cullen look so free. As if he had also stripped away the duty and honor he wore like armor leaving him completely unburdened. He was beautiful. Wrapped in leather and metal and wool of a different variety he looked just like her Commander, and not, at once. 

Dark trousers that tastefully highlighted his powerful thighs and trim hips. A blood red, wool coat with golden adornments, complicated leather buckles and a ruff of tawny fur along the collar. The top couple buttons of his white undershirt were left undone allowing her to catch sight of a light dusting of golden chest hair. His cheeks darkened under her appraising stare and yet he smiled in that way reserved only for her. 

“Am I imagining it, or do we have a moment to breathe?” He asked when she neared. His crossed arms loosened, then quickly rewound as if Cullen did not trust himself to keep his hands to himself. Not wanting him to, Evelyn stepped close.

“I think we have more than a moment.”

He chuckled. “I think you’re right. You brought us here. You are proof the Inquisition made a difference. That we will continue to do so.” 

Disappointed that Inquisition matters were brought up first, Evelyn shrugged. She'd been working all day. One way or another. 

“Our soldiers put their trust in you, Cullen. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“I should be thanking you,” he said quietly; brow furrowing. “You gave me a chance to… prove myself. In your place, I’m not sure I would have done the same.” 

“I'm a bleeding heart, what can I say?”

“Isn't that the truth?” 

At that Evelyn scanned the room. Her gaze lingered on each of her friends; vision blurring at the recollection most of them would be leaving now that it was all done. Who was she without these people? These beautiful, broken,  _ insanely _ loyal souls that had walked through the Void by her side for over a year. Helping her shoulder such a terrible burden all while making her smile and keeping her firmly in the light.

“I should let you … mingle,” Cullen said, acknowledging her sudden melancholy. “I’m sure everyone desires your attention. As much as I might want it for myself.” 

Evelyn felt there were still a thousand things she needed to say, but goodbye wasn't anywhere in there. She knew, deep down, it wasn't necessary. She gently shook her head, waving away his attempted dismissal. 

"You’re two hours late, I’ve mingled plenty.”

Cullen shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. “Forgive me. I had to—“

Evelyn scolded him with her eyes. “Don't do that.  I understand you had work to do.”

His arm went slack, hand still hanging on the crook of his neck. He huffed a little laugh, glancing sheepishly at the ground. “I'm glad to hear it.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t help. Josephine insisted I leave it to you three.” Evelyn leaned on the pillar beside him. Irrationally her heart fluttered at the feel of his solid mass against her side.

To her great disappointment, Cullen shifted, turning so he was facing her, but all that vanished when he touched her. He cupped her cheek a moment before his hand trailed down to rest on her neck. His broad chest and shoulders conveniently blocked her from view. 

“To be honest, I didn't care about anything other than you being alive.” His fingers skimmed over her scarf, deep red, shot with gold. A little piece of her dedication to him displayed around her neck. He gently pushed it aside, fingertips grazing the knot on her collarbone before lifting the thin chain from her skin. 

“It seems you were right,” he said, pulling the coin up to run between his finger and thumb.

Evelyn felt her brow furrow. Their survival had nothing to do with luck. The spell that saved them was beyond her. Far beyond. She still wasn't sure if it was the Gift or him or both. 

Cullen hooked a finger under her chin, coaxing her back to him. “You misunderstand. I was referring to the last thing you said before leaving.”

Evelyn was honestly surprised he had caught it. She had hardly been able to speak through the tightness in her throat. Barely managing to whisper it into the fur of his coat while he crushed her against him in the Chantry. 

“Nothing will keep me from you.”

“Nor I you,” he promised. 

She smiled. “How did you manage?”

“Well. Not once did your focus falter. It was reassuring considering we could see a majority of your plight play out in the distance, but then…” His eyes flitted to the side. A dark cloud passed across his vision. Then his gaze returned and there was an intensity to it that almost stopped her heart. 

“I meant what I said about losing you. I can't.  _ Won't.” _ His arm cut through the air beside him with finality. “I hated I wasn't there —  _ again _ — but then I realized I was.” 

Solas’s words from all those months ago echoed dreamily in her ears.  _ What he will offer you is beyond comprehension.  _ Evelyn nodded, and Cullen cupped her cheek again. The pad of his thumb skimmed over her bottom lip when she dragged in a shaky breath. 

“I felt it,” she managed on the following exhale. 

Passionately, Cullen angled her to his advantage but froze a hair's breadth away. One hand was tangled into her curtain of hair, the other still cradled her face. His breath gusted in shallow pants across her parted lips. She could practically taste the mint lingering on his mouth. 

“You're such a bloody tease sometimes,” she said, brushing their noses together.

“Care to slip away?”

“Is there something on your mind?” 

Cullen swallowed thickly and shook his head. At his hesitation to answer, Evelyn brushed their lips together. Just barely. 

His breath gusted out almost all at once.  _ "Everything." _

“Then let's go,” she said, smoothing her hands across the breast of his coat. Encouraging him to let whatever it was so they could make their escape.  _ “Agir, mon lion. Je m'impatiente,”  _ she sighed after a moment of inaction. 

Not what she was expecting, or even remotely hinting at, Evelyn was absolutely floored when his lips crashed down on hers in a sudden  _ aching  _ kiss, but before they could lose themselves completely, he released her.

“I’ve been dying to do that since you returned.” 

“Tease,” she accused again, pushing off the pillar and feigning stability.

Cullen smirked. “You love it.” 

“Don’t be smug,” she said, rasping her palm delightfully against his stubble. “There will be no living with you.” 

“I’m sure you’ll manage; you are, as you once said, stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” she said, smiling, and stepped around him. 

He was immediately at her side, escorting her from the hall with a possessive hand on the small of her back. The touch sent a familiar, prickling sense of awareness through her and Evelyn thought back to the aftermath when the spell keeping them aloft began to decay without its creator. She didn't know what the charm was that she had cast, but it had bloomed from deep in her chest. Down from the very center of her being and she had known if she just reached, Cullen would catch her. 

So she had reached. 

Grabbing hold of him despite the distance between them and had channeled the spell through the bottomless pool of mana embedded into the palm of her hand. The pain had been blinding, and she knew then that the Orb of Destruction had damaged whatever failsafe the bond had given her from the Anchor. But it was worth it, to save them.

Some part of her knew the bond would comfort Bull and Dorian when they went their separate ways. Cole would continue to adjust. Leliana would smile easier, laugh more and believe in that something bigger once again. Rainier would be the force for good he wished he had always been. Varric would go back and somehow pick up the pieces in Kirkwall without his closest of friends. She cared and worried, but at that moment there was no one but Cullen. 

The one person she consistently left behind. She despised the distance cropping up continuously between them. Longing to be his support and partner through all things. 

Evelyn leaned against the door to their rooms. “Perhaps now that the war is over you can shift into the field.”

“What do you have in mind?” 

“With most of my team leaving I'll need a personal guard of some sort.”

The victory won from such an idea burned in his eyes and Evelyn pushed down the latch, allowing them to slip from the hall. She led the way, fire in hand, up the dark spiral to their sanctuary high in the sky; her free hand in his as they ascended. 

In their rooms, there was no rush. In fact, it seemed like they had endless quantities of time stretched out before them for once, so they took their time. Soft touches and wandering hands until only skin remained. Evelyn wrapped her hand around his manhood. The look on his face as she stroked him was the most beautiful thing in the world. 

With nothing to drag them from bed or tear them apart, he allowed himself the indulgence; groaning deep in his chest as she wrapped her lips around him. The sound was like fire in her veins. She moved slow, intentionally, and with purpose. Each flick of her tongue or gentle suck precisely placed for his enjoyment. Occasionally releasing him to stroke him and appreciate his manhood. 

But soon it wasn't enough. 

Evelyn barely had time to register he was moving before she was on her back, pinned to the mattress beneath him. He kissed every inch of her, lingering on spots he knew wound her up. She was helpless to do anything more than arch into his touch, and when he encouraged her to spread wider she grabbed onto his hair for dear life. 

He knew just how to work her. Sucking and teasing in regular increments to intensify the spear of his tongue inside her or the swirl of it over her little bundle of nerves. For once Cullen didn’t speak a word, allowing himself to bask in her moans and endearments. When her breathing became ragged, her release spooling tight and impending, Cullen crawled over her. 

Evelyn gasped in a breath at the feel of his long, drawn-out glide into her body. Cullen slid out, then fully in again, deeper this time as he rolled his hips into her. And from then on there was nothing but the feel of him moving inside her. 

There was something about his passion — a  _ fierceness _ — that she would never get enough of. All it ever took to calm her was a soft touch and smile. To heat her up, a subtle shift in the cadence of his voice and a mind-numbing kiss. Her body began to tremble beneath his, every muscle coiled tight.

“Come for me,” he said before licking into her mouth yet again. 

With a whimpered agreement against his lips, she clung to him as waves of pleasure crashed through her whole body. And with a hoarse cry, Cullen followed after her. 

There were a few moments of Evelyn trying to catch her breath, then she laughed, experiencing a joy she was unfamiliar with. It was different than the exhilaration that came with being able to follow the horizon indefinitely again, the heart-stopping beauty of a glade at sunset, or the rush that came with unleashing the full extent of her powers. This was the joy of home, of knowing where she belonged. 

“What could possibly be so amusing?”

“Absolutely nothing. I’m just,” Evelyn paused, vaguely waving her hand. “Happy.”

Cullen slid out of her, chuckling a little himself as he settled his weight on top of her. 

“It looks good on you.”

“Likewise,” Evelyn said, smiling wider at the hint of color creeping across his cheeks. “Cullen…”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what happens after this."

“Neither do I, but I think it’s safe to say we’ll face it together.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I'll wrap this up within the next month or two. Thanks to those of you that stuck with me for a long while I worked through some personal stuff to come back to this fic. <3


	35. Epilogue: Something More

Something woke him, what exactly Cullen could not be sure. The dream had been formless, but it left him with a vague sense of dread and restlessness. Thankfully, dawn was not far off. The stars were fading as black turned to grey, and even though she had curled away from him at some point in the night, Evelyn was there.

Sleep was not so difficult for either one of them as it used to be. Cullen remembered a time when they both used to work until they couldn’t anymore. Back then, Evelyn used to fall asleep with her chestnut hair still elaborately braided, wake up, decide it didn’t look too bad and pick right back up where she had left off with Inquisition business. Now it was always loose, falling in soft waves that cascaded down her back. 

Normalcy looked good on her. 

Quietly, Cullen got out of bed and put on warm clothes. Even though spring had officially arrived, there had been a few light frosts the past week and one brief flurry of snow. He was spending time each day splitting wood by the shed next to the house for good measure. Probably would continue to do so throughout the summer so when winter came, they would have more than enough firewood. 

Winters would be hard, but that was nothing new. They had been so at Skyhold too. It would be more than worth the quiet and solitude. Plus, he and Evelyn had each other; they would do what they had always done. Protect one another, keep each other warm, share their strengths.

Survive.

Before heading downstairs, there was a moment where he almost leaned down to place a kiss on her temple. Old habits died hard, especially when they were rooted in fear and uncertainty. The move had been taxing, on them both, but more so on Evelyn. She was still recovering from it, and she needed her rest, so instead of risking waking her, he added two logs to the fire. He would hate for her to get cold in his absence. 

In the den, Cullen did the same, and Dante let out an appreciative grunt from his place on the rug. The hound seemed just as pleased with their new home as they were. The Battered Shield had been a home as Skyhold had been. Someplace to store their things and be together while Cullen did what he could to set things right.

After Corypheus had been defeated, his betrayal of Meredith and subsequent public departure from the Order finally became a point of contention. Cullen acknowledged he had taken oaths and that he had broken them, but he would not admit he had done  _ wrong. _ The continual backlash had been disheartening, but the Inquisition and his family had stood by him, had helped him through the worst of it. And even though he was still ostracized by the Order, he held no regret. Cullen knew he was not the only one; he was merely a figurehead, an easy target for them to make an example of, just like Evelyn had been for the Exalted Council. 

She had given the world everything, but it was never enough. They betrayed her in the end, just as Solas had, so when Evelyn disbanded the Inquisition in her bitterness, Cullen had only felt relief. If she had ever needed to put herself first, it was then. Without the Anchor, the incredible mana reserve she had grown accustomed to, Evelyn was left frail and weak. 

The clinic had been a simple ‘what if’ Cullen had errantly considered when he learned just how many other Templars had chosen the same path. And when he and Evelyn were left standing there, alone and adrift, on the marble steps to the Winter Palace, he knew what he needed to do for himself as much as for Evelyn. 

The Battered Shield had been good for her; allowed her to adjust and put the pieces of herself back together in some capacity. It had taken time, but eventually, she was ready to go home. 

The two-story cottage was unpretentious, simple, and most importantly,  _ theirs. _ They had built it from afar, and only Cullen had seen it before moving in because of Evelyn’s condition. He smiled to himself as he thought back to when she first laid eyes on the homestead, recalling peace and contentment that had filled her. There was still some unpacking to do. Nine or so crates lined the half-wall that separated the large open room that served as a den and dining area from the kitchen. They would get around to it; there was plenty of time.

Cullen washed his hands before making breakfast. They had some aged cheddar and leftover biscuits from the day before, so he decided to fry up some bacon. A little of everything went in Dante’s bowl along with a slice of salted beef, then Cullen made a sandwich for himself and one for his wife. He set hers on the table. 

Standing in front of the large window that faced the lake in the kitchen, Cullen ate and watched color bleed back into the world as dawn broke. Light sparkled through the low fog creeping across the black waters. The trees standing sentinel became grey-green; the sky a motley of hues. Part of him wished Ev was awake to greet the day with him, but the other part was more than pleased she was still sleeping. He could get the morning chores taken care of, then spend time with her putting their belongings away.

Outdoors, wind sighed through the tree branches and ruffled his hair as Cullen walked to the stables. It smelled of winter. Perhaps another flurry was on its way. The horses were already awake, but Cullen refilled the water tank and set out the hay before letting them out of their stalls. His lean, umber stallion lipped his palm before making its way outside with the workhorses. A little farther down, Evelyn’s destrier, the large grey creature with eerie red eyes, snorted impatiently.

Once the door opened, its ears turned forward, but it didn’t exit. Cullen stroked the horse’s neck, thinking on how Evelyn never got to see her father before he passed. Josephine had felt personally responsible for it because she had requested the visit be postponed so Evelyn could travel and personally thank the Inquisition’s allies. 

Immediately after it happened, the tour was canceled so she could at least go pay her respects at the gravesite in Ostwick. The only silver lining to the situation was her two surviving brothers had insisted upon making amends. They wrote often, and had supplied the workhorses and the wagons for their move; even refused their coin though the charge would not have stunted he and Evelyn financially in any way. 

Eventually, Shadow exited his stall and headed down to the water’s edge. A moment later it raised its head and looked back toward the house. The only clouds in the sky rose from the chimney. Like him, the creature seemed to have a sixth sense about Evelyn. Cullen could always tell when she woke. His mind felt sharper; his perceptions more defined then they had ever been on lyrium. He felt  _ awake.  _

If it were warmer, she would break her fast on the back porch. Let the landscape swallow her up. Breathe in the fresh air mixed in with the scents of earth and grass and flowers and wood like she had the first time he brought her there. Cullen had a sudden urge to go to her, to check on her, but he set it aside. It wouldn’t be much longer until he was finished. 

After he was done cleaning out the stalls, Cullen set out the horses’ food and went to chop wood. The builders had left a monstrous pile of neatly stacked logs by the house ready for splitting. There was more than enough space in the shed for storage, so he planned to keep it full at all times in case he got injured or fell ill for any amount of time during the winter. But for now, Cullen decided to split just enough to replenish what they had used since yesterday. 

The ax had just come down, splitting the wood with a  _ crack,  _ when he heard a faint crash from inside. His heart picked up speed, and his thoughts raced even as he  _ knew _ she was fine. 

Inside, Cullen set the ax down by the back door and found her standing where he had eaten earlier. Dante was at her side and if a mabari could look concerned, concerned he was indeed.

Evelyn stopped absently scratching Dante’s ear and waved her hand dismissively. “It was just a plate,” she said. 

But it was more than that, and they both knew it.  

“How was breakfast?” Cullen asked, washing his hands. He made note of the pitcher of water with some lemon and elfroot submersed in it out on the counter top. 

“It was good, thank you.” 

He smiled, taking a step back to pluck the hand towel off the countertop behind him and a chunk of plate crunched under his boot.

“I swear it went everywhere when I dropped it. There’s probably pieces upstairs somehow,” Evelyn said with a laugh. It was still a little watery despite her efforts. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t pick it up; I tried.”

“Like you said, it was just a plate, but you shouldn’t be walking around barefoot until it’s cleaned up,” he said, tossing the rag aside so he could cup her cheek and feel the ample swell of her stomach. The life growing inside her shifted and stretched at the contact. There was no stopping the grin that spread across the face nor the joy in his heart. 

“It won’t be much longer now,” Evelyn said, finally smiling, bright and honest, as she placed her hand atop his. “Maybe tonight if we’re lucky.” 

Cullen ran his fingertips along the thin chain around her neck, following it down to his coin. He held it between finger and thumb, feeling the familiar grooves. Mia and her family were staying out in the original cabin that now served as a small guest house while the rest of their friends and family that insisted on being around to help were staying at The Gallivanting Golem nearby in Honnleath.

“When it’s time, it’s time,” he said, leaning down to brush their mouths together. 

What Cullen had went far beyond luck; it was everything he never expected from life or ever dared hope for. It was that something more he longed to be part of and it was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first attempt at fanfic, and when I started this project back in 2015, I wasn't a part of the fandom. I was just doing this for fun in my spare time, but I got insecure and deleted. I'm not sure what spurred me to revive it, but I am glad I did. 
> 
> Since then, I have met a lot of wonderful people in the fandom and have made some great, real friendships. Without these individuals ((you know who you are)), I wouldn't have finished this. I know it isn't perfect, but I love that I tried, I love that I finished it, and I love that you gave it a chance and read it to the end.  
> _______________________________________________________________________________  
> Also, here is a lovely piece of art from [kawereen](http://kawereen.tumblr.com) that perfectly captures my happy ending for these two.


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